aUiiiVJ'iU' 


;JJ..vj  ju 


<^ 


\WE-lJNIV^-" 


.?J-jU^ 


"(JUiUVJiU' 


•5-' 


■^iuj^y-iui- 


''J(iJ/\lNi 


,«i- 


•/: 


OF-CAKFf^P' 


<\^rt 


^y' 


<QU: 


?/:. 


aFfAf! 


r\F.*'AtipnD. 


^N^!"' 


n: 


^        Vi 


^OF-CAIIFO/?^ 


g 


?■- 


'^. 


a 


.vlFI 


'WIVER% 


^ 


..in<;AMr.nrr 


,  aFTATfrriD 


^•lOSANCnrj-^        ^HIBRA^'V"' 


% 


V/^a^Aiwa -juv 


i?  i 


y\V 


3>  — 


r  " 


>"     , 


.iji:ijf;v  i,i>r 


<?-. 


IBRARYQ^ 


z 


d 


^ 


A^ 


•N^' 


>.\V^' 


,  AFTAftrnD/, 


m 


,r»F.rAT:- 


Ci- 


■31 


<V.' 


T       o 


J^onore  tie  ISal^ac 


V) 


jgonort  tic  Balzac 

PRIVATE   LIFE 

VOLUME   IX 


LIMITED   TO   ONE    THOUSAND   COMPLETE  COPIES 

713 


NO. 


iSytjMi^<<Aw(  ^s»t^  S.  db.9-  c£>^. 


J.   ~ 


AT  COMTE  OCTAVE'S,  RUE  PAYENNE. 


"/  bring  to  yoji  the  only  relative  left  me.  If  I 
believe  myself  to  be  making  a  present  to  Your  Ex- 
cellency, I  think  also  that  I  am  giving  my  nephevu  a 
second  father y 


THE    NOVELS 


OF 


HONORE  DE  BALZAC 


NOW   FOR   THE   FIRST  TIME 
COMPLETELY    TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH 


HONORINE 
COLONEL   CHABERT 
THE  INTERDICTION 

BY  WILLIAM  WALTON 


WITH    FIVE    ETCHINGS    BY    RICARDO   DE   LOS   RIOS,    AFTER 
PAINTINGS    BY    EDOUARD    TOUDOUZE 


IN  ONE  VOLUME 


PRINTED  ONLY  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS  BY 

GEORGE   BARRIE   &   SON,   PHILADELPHIA 


COPYRIGHTED,    1897,   BY   G.   V.   4   SON 


?9 

a  mi 

S 

en 
O 

.-H 


HONORINE 


189944 


TO  MONSIEUR  ACHILLE  DEl^ERIA 

An  affectionate  souvenir  from  the  Author. 


(3) 


HONORINE 


If  the  French  are  as  unwilling  as  the  English  are 
eager  to  go  traveling,  perhaps  the  French  and  the 
English  are  both  justified.  Wherever  we  go  we 
find  something  that  is  better  than  England,  whilst 
it  is  excessively  difficult  to  meet  anything  like  the 
attractions  of  France  outside  of  France.  Other 
countries  offer  admirable  landscapes,  there  may  be 
found  in  them  frequently  a  comfort  superior  to  that 
of  France,  which  indeed  makes  but  the  slowest  prog- 
ress in  this  respect.  They  display  sometimes  a 
magnificence,  a  grandeur,  a  bedazzling  luxury;  they 
are  wanting  neither  in  gracefulness  nor  in  noble 
manners;  but  the  intellectual  life,  the  activity  of 
ideas,  the  talent  of  conversation  and  that  atticism 
so  familiar  in  Paris,  that  quick  understanding  of 
that  which  is  thought  but  not  uttered,  that  genius 
for  comprehending,  which  is  half  of  the  French 
language,  is  met  with  nowhere  else.  Thus  the 
Frenchman,  whose  jesting  is  already  so  little  com- 
prehended, quickly  withers  abroad,  like  a  trans- 
planted tree.     Emigration  is  a  perversion   of  the 

(5) 


6  HONORINE 

French  nation.  Very  many  Frenchmen,  of  those  of 
whom  we  are  here  speaking,  declare  that  they  saw 
again  with  pleasure  the  custom-house  officers  of 
their  native  country, — which  may  be  considered  the 
most  daring  hyperbole  of  patriotism. 

This  little  preamble  has  for  its  object  the  recalling 
to  those  Frenchmen  who  have  traveled  the  very 
great  pleasure  which  they  have  experienced  when, 
as  it  happened,  they  have  suddenly  found  all  their 
country  again,  an  oasis  in  the  salon  of  some  diplo- 
mat; a  pleasure  which  will  be  comprehended  with 
difficulty  by  those  who  have  never  left  the  asphalt  of 
the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  and  for  whom  the  line  of 
the  quays,  on  the  left  bank,  is  already  no  longer 
Paris.  To  find  Paris  again !  do  you  know  what  that 
is,  oh,  Parisians  ?  It  is  to  find  again,  not  the  cuisine 
of  the  Rocker  de  Cancale,  as  Borel  guards  it  for  the 
gourmets  who  know  how  to  appreciate  it,  for  that  is 
to  be  met  with  only  in  the  Rue  Montorgueil,  but  a 
service  which  recalls  it!  It  is  to  find  again  the 
wines  of  France,  which  are  quite  mythological  out- 
side of  France,  and  rare  as  is  the  woman  whom  we 
shall  here  discuss!  It  is  to  find  again,  not  the  wit 
i  la  mode,  for,  between  Paris  and  the  frontiers,  it 
evaporates;  but  that  intelligent,  comprehensive, 
critical  atmosphere  in  which  the  French  live,  from 
the  poet  to  the  workman,  from  the  duchess  to  the 
street  urchin. 

In  1836,  during  the  sojourn  of  the  Sardinian  court 
at  Genoa,  two  Parisians,  more  or  less  celebrated, 
were  enabled  to  believe  themselves  still  in  Paris 


HONORINE  7 

when  they  found  themselves  in  a  palace  leased  by 
the  consul-general  of  France  and  which  was  seated 
on  a  hill,  the  last  fold  of  the  Apennines  between  the 
gate  of  Saint-Thomas  and  that  famous  lighthouse 
which  in  the  keepsakes  adorns  all  the  views  of 
Genoa.  This  palace  is  one  of  those  magnificent 
villas  on  which  the  Genoese  nobles  expended  mil- 
lions at  the  period  when  this  aristocratic  republic 
was  at  the  height  of  its  power.  If  the  half-light  is 
beautiful  anywhere,  it  is  assuredly  so  at  Genoa, 
when  it  has  rained  as  it  does  rain  there,  in  torrents, 
during  the  whole  forenoon;  when  the  purity  of  the 
sea  rivals  the  purity  of  the  sky ;  when  silence  reigns 
on  the  quay  and  in  the  groves  of  this  villa,  in  its 
marbles  with  gaping  mouths  from  which  the  water 
flows  mysteriously;  when  the  stars  glitter,  when 
the  waves  of  the  Mediterranean  follow  each  other 
like  the  avowals  of  a  woman  from  whom  you  draw 
them  one  by  one.  Let  us  admit  it,  this  moment  in 
which  the  balmy  air  perfumes  both  the  lungs  and 
the  reveries,  in  which  voluptuousness,  visible  and 
mobile  as  the  atmosphere,  envelops  you  in  your 
cushioned  seat  while,  spoon  in  hand,  you  trifle  with 
the  ices  or  the  sorbets,  a  city  at  your  feet,  beautiful 
women  before  you, — these  hours  of  Boccaccio  are  to 
be  found  only  in  Italy  and  on  the  shores  of  the  Medi- 
terranean. Let  us  suppose  around  the  table  the 
Marquis  di  Negro,  that  Hospitaller  brother  of  all 
errant  talents,  and  the  Marquis  Damaso  Pareto,  two 
Frenchmen  disguised  as  Genoese,  a  consul-general 
having  at  his  side  a  wife  as  beautiful  as  a  Madonna, 


8  HONORINE 

and  two  children,  silent  because  slumber  had  envel- 
oped them,  the  ambassador  of  France  and  his  wife, 
a  first  secretary  of  the  embassy  who  thought  himself 
extinguished  and  malicious,  and  finally,  two  Paris- 
ians who  had  come  to  take  their  farewells  of  the 
consul-general's  wife  at  a  splendid  dinner,  you  will 
then  have  the  picture  which  was  presented  by  the 
terrace  of  this  villa  about  the  middle  of  May,  a  pic- 
ture dominated  by  one  person,  by  a  celebrated 
woman  on  whom  all  looks  were  concentrated  at 
moments,  and  who  was  the  heroine  of  this  impro- 
vised festival.  One  of  the  two  Frenchmen  was  the 
famous  landscape  painter,  Leon  de  Lora,  the  other 
was  a  celebrated  critic,  Claude  Vignon.  Both  of 
them  were  accompanying  this  woman,  one  of  the 
living  illustrations  of  the  fair  sex.  Mademoiselle  des 
Touches,  known  under  the  name  of  Camille  Maupin 
in  the  literary  world.  Mademoiselle  des  Touches 
had  gone  to  Florence  on  business.  Through  one  of 
those  charming  kindnesses  of  which  she  was  so 
prodigal,  she  had  brought  with  her  Leon  de  Lora  to 
show  him  Italy,  and  had  gone  as  far  as  Rome  to 
show  him  the  Campagna.  Returning  by  the  way 
of  the  Simplon  pass,  she  was  taking  the  Corniche 
road  to  Marseilles.  Still  for  the  benefit  of  the  land- 
scape painter,  she  had  stopped  at  Genoa.  The  con- 
sul-general had  naturally  wished  to  do  the  honors  of 
Genoa  before  the  arrival  of  the  Court  to  one  who 
was  as  strongly  recommended  by  her  fortune,  her 
name  and  her  position  as  by  her  talent.  Camille 
Maupin,   who  knew  Genoa   down  to   its  smallest 


HONORINE  9 

chapels,  had  abandoned  her  landscapist  to  the  cares 
of  the  diplomat,  to  those  of  the  two  Genoese  mar- 
quises, and  was  very  saving  of  her  time.  Although 
the  ambassador  was  himself  a  very  distinguished 
writer,  the  celebrated  woman  declined  to  yield  to 
his  persuasions,  fearing  that  which  the  English  call 
an  exhibition;  but  she  withdrew  the  claws  of  her 
refusal  when  it  became  a  question  of  a  farewell  day 
spent  at  the  consul's  villa.  Leon  de  Lora  said  to 
Camille  that  her  presence  at  the  villa  would  be  the 
only  return  he  could  make  to  the  ambassador  and  his 
wife,  tlie  two  Genoese  marquises  and  the  consul 
and  his  wife.  Mademoiselle  des  Touches  thereupon 
made  the  sacrifice  of  one  of  those  days  of  complete 
liberty  which  are  not  always  to  be  found  in  Paris 
by  those  on  whom  the  world  keeps  its  eyes. 

The  explanation  of  this  reunion  thus  given,  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  that  etiquette  was  banished  from  it, 
as  well  as  many  women  of  the  highest  rank  who 
were  curious  to  know  if  the  virility  of  the  talent  of 
Camille  Maupin  had  not  impaired  the  grace  of  the 
pretty  woman,  and  if,  in  a  word,  the  breeches  did 
not  show  under  the  petticoats.  From  the  dinner  up 
to  the  moment  when  the  collation  was  served,  at 
nine  o'clock,  if  the  conversation  had  been  alternately 
serious  and  gay,  ceaselessly  enlivened  by  the  shafts 
of  Leon  de  Lora,  who  passed  for  the  most  malicious 
man  in  the  Paris  of  the  day,  by  a  good  taste  which 
will  not  be  thought  surprising  from  the  selection  of 
the  guests,  there  had  been  but  little  discussion  of 
literature ;  but  finally  the  wanderings  of  this  French 


lO  HONORINE 

tourney  necessarily  led  up  to  it,  were  it  only  to  touch 
lightly  this  essentially  national  subject.  But,  be- 
fore arriving  at  this  turning  of  the  conversation, 
which  gave  the  speech  to  the  consul-general,  it 
may  be  useful  to  say  a  word  concerning  his  family 
and  himself. 

This  diplomat,  a  man  of  about  thirty-four  years 
of  age,  married  for  the  last  six  years,  was  the  living 
portrait  of  Lord  Byron.  The  celebrity  of  this  phys- 
iognomy relieves  us  from  the  necessity  of  painting 
that  of  the  consul.  It  may,  however,  be  observed 
that  there  was  no  affectation  in  his  dreamy  air.  Lord 
Byron  was  a  poet,  and  the  diplomat  was  poetic;  the 
women  know  how  to  recognize  this  difference  which 
explains,  without  justifying,  some  of  their  attach- 
ments. This  masculine  beauty,  set  off  by  a  charm- 
ing character,  by  the  habits  of  a  solitary  and 
laborious  life,  had  seduced  a  Genoese  heiress.  A 
Genoese  heiress!  this  expression  might  cause  a 
smile  in  Genoa,  where,  in  consequence  of  the  ex- 
heredation  of  daughters,  a  woman  is  rarely  rich ;  but 
Onorina  Pedrotti,  the  only  child  of  a  banker  without 
male  heirs,  is  an  exception.  Notwithstanding  all 
the  flatteries  which  might  have  been  lavished  by  an 
inspired  passion,  the  consul-general  had  not  seemed 
to  wish  to  wed.  Nevertheless,  after  a  residence  of 
two  years,  after  some  steps  taken  by  the  ambassador 
during  the  sojourns  of  the  Court  at  Genoa,  the  mar- 
riage was  concluded.  The  young  man  withdrew 
his  first  refusals,  less  because  of  the  touching  affec- 
tion of  Onorina  Pedrotti,  than  in  consequence  of  an 


HONORINE  II 

unknown  event,  one  of  those  crises  of  private  life 
which  are  so  promptly  buried  under  the  daily  cur- 
rents of  interests  that,  later,  the  most  natural  actions 
seem  inexplicable.  This  covering-up  of  causes 
affects  also  very  often  the  most  serious  events  of 
history.  Such  was,  at  least,  the  opinion  of  the  city 
of  Genoa,  in  which,  for  some  women,  the  excessive 
reticence,  the  melancholy  of  the  French  consul,  could 
be  explained  only  by  the  word  passmj.  We  may 
remark,  en  passant,  that  women  never  complain  of 
being  the  victims  of  a  preference,  they  immolate 
themselves  very  readily  in  the  common  cause. 
Onorina  Pedrotti,  who  perhaps  would  have  hated 
the  consul  if  she  had  been  absolutely  disdained, 
loved  him  none  the  less,  and  perhaps  more,  suo  sposo, 
in  knowing  him  to  be  in  love.  Women  admit  prece- 
dence in  affairs  of  the  heart.  Everything  is  saved  so 
long  as  it  is  a  question  of  the  sex.  A  man  is  never  a 
diplomat  with  impunity;  the  sposo  was  as  discreet 
as  the  tomb,  and  so  discreet  that  the  merchants  of 
Genoa  were  disposed  to  see  something  of  premedi- 
tation in  the  attitude  of  the  young  consul,  from 
whom  the  heiress  would  perhaps  have  escaped  if  he 
had  not  played  this  role  of  the  Malade  Imaginaire  \n 
love.  If  this  were  the  truth,  the  women  found  it  too 
degrading  to  believe.  The  daughter  of  Pedrotti 
made  of  her  love  a  consolation,  she  nursed  these  un- 
known sorrows  in  a  bed  of  tenderness  and  of  Italian 
caresses.  //  signor  Pedrotti  had  not,  moreover,  any- 
thing to  complain  of  in  the  choice  to  which  he  had 
been  constrained  by  his  beloved  daughter.    Powerful 


12  HONORINE 

protectors  in  Paris  watched  over  the  fortunes  of 
the  young  diplomat.  Fulfilling  the  promise  of  the 
ambassador  to  the  father-in-law,  the  consul-general 
was  created  a  baron  and  a  commander  in  the  Legion 
of  Honor.  Finally,  //  signor  Pedrotti  was  made  a  count 
by  the  King  of  Sardinia.  The  dot  was  a  million. 
As  for  the  fortune  of  the  casa  Pedrotti,  estimated  at 
two  millions  gained  in  the  grain  business,  it  fell  to 
the  married  couple  six  months  after  their  union,  for 
the  first  and  the  last  of  the  counts  Pedrotti  died  in 
January,  1831.  Onorina  Pedrotti  is  one  of  those 
beautiful  Genoese,  the  most  magnificent  creatures 
of  Italy  when  they  are  beautiful.  For  the  tomb  of 
Julian,  Michael  Angelo  took  his  models  from  Genoa. 
Hence  that  amplitude,  that  curious  disposition  of  the 
breast  in  the  figures  of  the  Day  and  the  Night,  which 
so  many  critics  find  to  be  exaggerated,  but  which 
is  peculiar  to  the  women  of  Liguria.  In  Genoa, 
beauty  no  longer  exists  to-day  except  under  the 
jnenaro,  as  in  Venice  it  is  only  to  be  met  with  under 
the  faiiioti.  This  phenomenon  may  be  observed 
in  all  ruined  nations.  The  noble  type  is  not  only 
to  be  found  among  the  people,  as,  after  the  con- 
flagration of  cities,  the  medals  are  hidden  in  the 
cinders.  But,  as  she  is  already  an  exception  with 
regard  to  her  fortune,  Onorina  is  another  exception 
as  to  patrician  beauty.  Recall  to  your  memory  the 
Night  which  Michael  Angelo  has  detained  forever 
under  //  Pensiero,  clothe  her  in  modern  garments, 
twist  up  that  beautiful  hair  which  is  so  long, 
around  that  magnificent  head,  somewhat  brown  in 


HONORINE  13 

tone,  put  a  spark  of  fire  in  those  dreamy  eyes, 
wrap  that  powerful  breast  in  a  scarf,  imagine  the 
long  white  dress  embroidered  with  flowers,  suppose 
that  the  statue,  risen,  is  seated,  with  arms  crossed, 
like  those  of  Mademoiselle  Georges,  and  you  will 
have  before  your  eyes  the  consul's  wife,  with  a 
child  of  six  years,  beautiful  as  the  desire  of  a 
mother,  and  a  little  girl  of  four  years  on  her  knees, 
charming  as  some  infantile  type  laboriously  sought 
for  by  David  the  sculptor  for  an  ornament  for  a  tomb. 
This  beautiful  household  attracted  the  secret  atten- 
tion of  Camille.  Mademoiselle  des  Touches  thought 
that  the  consul  had  a  somewhat  too  absent  air  for  a 
perfectly  happy  man. 

Although,  during  the  whole  of  this  day,  the  wife 
and  the  husband  presented  to  her  the  admirable  spec- 
tacle of  the  most  complete  happiness,  Camille  asked 
herself  why  it  was  that  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  she  had  ever  met,  and  whom  she  had  seen  in 
the  salons  of  Paris,  remained  consul-general  at 
Genoa,  when  he  was  possessed  of  a  fortune  of  a 
hundred  and  some  thousand  francs  of  income!  But 
she  had  also  recognized,  by  a  thousand  of  those 
nothings  which  the  women  pick  up  with  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  Arab  sage  in  Zadig,  the  most  faithful 
affection  on  the  part  of  the  husband.  Certainly, 
these  two  handsome  beings  would  love  each  other 
without  fail  until  the  end  of  their  days.  Camille 
said  to  herself  alternately,  "What  is  it?"— "It  is 
nothing,"  according  to  the  deceiving  manifestations 
of  the  consul-general's  manner,  who,  let  us  say  it, 


14  HONORINE 

possessed  the  absolute  calm  of  the  English,  of  sav- 
ages, of  Orientals  and  of  consummate  diplomats. 

In  discussing  literature,  the  talk  turned  on  the 
eternal  stock  in  trade  of  the  republic  of  letters, — the 
woman's  fault!  And  it  presently  appeared  that 
there  were  two  opinions, — which,  the  man  or  the 
woman,  was  in  the  wrong  in  this  fault?  The  three 
women  present,  the  ambassador's  wife,  the  consul- 
general's  wife  and  Mademoiselle  des  Touches,  these 
women  naturally  considered  as  irreproachable,  were 
pitiless  for  the  woman.  The  men  undertook  to 
prove  to  these  three  beautiful  flowers  of  their  sex 
that  there  might  remain  some  virtue  in  a  woman 
after  her  fall. 

"How  long  are  we  going  to  play  thus  at  hide-and- 
seek?"  said  Leon  de  Lora. 

"Cara  vita — my  dear  life, — go  and  put  your  chil- 
dren to  bed,  and  send  me  by  Gina,  the  little  black 
portfolio  which  is  on  my  piece  of  Boule  furniture," 
said  the  consul  to  his  wife. 

She  rose  without  making  any  observation,  which 
proves  that  she  loved  her  husband  well,  for  she 
already  knew  enough  French  to  comprehend  that  her 
husband  sent  her  away. 

"I  am  going  to  relate  to  you  a  story  in  which  I 
took  a  part,  after  which  we  can  discuss,  for  it  seems 
to  me  to  be  puerile  to  use  a  scalpel  on  an  imaginary 
corpse.     In  order  to  dissect,  let  us  first  take  a  body. " 

Everyone  arranged  himself  to  listen  with  all  the 
more  complaisance  that  each  one  had  talked  enough ; 
the   conversation  was  beginning  to  languish,  and 


HONORINE  15 

this  moment  is  the  opportunity  which  the  story- 
teller should  select.  This  then  is  what  the  consul- 
general  related : 

"At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  having  been  qualified 
as  Doctor  of  Laws,  my  old  uncle,  the  Abbe  Loraux, 
then  seventy-two  years  of  age,  felt  the  necessity  of 
giving  me  a  protector  and  of  launching  me  on  some 
career.  This  excellent  man,  if  indeed  he  were  not 
a  saint,  looked  upon  each  additional  year  as  a  new 
gift  from  God.  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you  how  readily 
the  confessor  to  a  royal  highness  can  fmd  an  open- 
ing for  a  young  man  educated  by  himself,  the  only 
child  of  his  sister.  One  day,  therefore,  toward  the 
end  of  the  year  1824,  this  venerable  old  man,  for 
the  last  five  years  cure  of  the  Blancs-Manteaux  at 
Paris,  ascended  to  the  chamber  which  I  was  then 
occupying  in  his  residence  and  said  to  me: 

"  'Make  your  toilet,  my  child,  I  am  going  to  pre- 
sent you  to  the  person  who  will  take  you  into  his 
household  as  his  secretary.  If  I  do  not  deceive  my- 
self, this  person  will  replace  me,  in  case  God  should 
call  me  to  Himself.  I  shall  have  finished  my  mass 
by  nine  o'clock,  you  have  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
to  yourself,  be  ready. ' 

**'Ah!  uncle,  must  I  then  say  farewell  to  this 
chamber  in  which  I  have  been  so  happy  for  four 
years  ?' 

"  'I  have  no  fortune  to  leave  you,'  he  replied. 

"  'Will  you  not  leave  me  the  protection  of  your 
name,  the  remembrance  of  your  works,  and —  ?* 

"  'We  will  not  talk  of  that  inheritance,'  he  said, 


l6  HONORINE 

smiling.  'You  do  not  yet  know  the  world  well 
enough  to  be  aware  that  it  pays  with  difficulty  a 
legacy  of  that  nature,  whilst,  in  conducting  you  this 
morning  to  Monsieur  le  Comte — '  Permit  me," 
said  the  consul  interrupting  himself,  "to  designate 
my  protector  to  you  under  his  baptismal  name  only, 
and  to  call  him  the  Comte  Octave — 'Whilst  in  con- 
ducting you  this  morning  to  the  house  of  Monsieur 
le  Comte  Octave,  1  believe  I  am  giving  you  a  pro- 
tection which,  if  you  please  this  virtuous  statesman, 
as  I  am  sure  you  will,  will  certainly  be  equal  to  the 
fortune  which  I  would  have  amassed  for  you  if  the 
ruin  of  my  brother-in-law  and  the  death  of  my  sister 
had  not  fallen  upon  me  by  surprise  like  a  clap  of 
thunder  from  a  clear  sky.' 

"  'Are  you  the  confessor  of  Monsieur  le  Comte?' 
'"Eh!  if  I  were,  could  I  place  you  there?  What 
priest  is  capable  of  profiting  by  the  secrets,  the 
knowledge  of  which  comes  to  him  in  the  tribunal  of 
penitence?  No;  you  owe  this  protection  to  His 
Grace  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals.  My  dear  Maurice, 
you  will  be  there  as  in  a  father's  house.  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte  will  give  you  a  fixed  salary  of  two 
thousand  four  hundred  francs,  a  lodging  in  his  hotel, 
and  an  allowance  of  twelve  hundred  francs  for  your 
food;  he  will  not  admit  you  to  his  table  and  does 
not  wish  to  have  you  served  separately,  so  that  you 
shall  not  be  delivered  to  the  service  of  underlings. 
I  have  not  accepted  the  offer  which  has  been  made 
to  me  without  having  acquired  the  certainty  that 
the  secretary  of  Comte  Octave  will  never  be  merely 


HONORING  17 

a  first  domestic.  You  will  be  overwhelmed  with 
work,  for  the  count  is  a  great  worker;  but  you  will 
come  out  of  his  house  capable  of  filling  the  highest 
positions.  I  do  not  need  to  recommend  to  you  dis- 
cretion, the  first  virtue  of  men  destined  to  public 
functions.' 

"You  may  judge  of  my  curiosity!  The  Comte 
Octave  occupied  at  that  time  one  of  the  highest 
places  in  the  magistracy,  he  possessed  the  confi- 
dence of  Madame  la  Dauphine,  who  had  just  named 
him  minister  of  State,  he  led  an  existence  nearly 
similar  to  that  of  the  Comte  de  Serizy,  whom  you 
all  know,  I  think;  but  a  more  obscure  one,  for  he 
lived  in  the  Marais,  Rue  Payenne,  and  scarcely 
ever  received.  His  private  life  escaped  the  public 
observation  by  a  monastic  modesty  and  by  contin- 
uous labor.  Let  me  paint  to  you  in  a  few  words  my 
situation.  After  having  found  in  the  grave  head- 
master of  the  college  Saint-Louis  a  tutor  to  whom 
my  uncle  had  delegated  his  authority,  1  had  finished 
my  studies  at  eighteen.  I  had  issued  from  this 
college  as  pure  as  a  seminarist  filled  with  faith 
issues  from  Saint-Sulpice.  On  her  deathbed  my 
mother  had  obtained  from  my  uncle  a  promise  that 
I  should  not  be  made  a  priest;  but  I  was  as  pious  as 
if  I  were  to  take  holy  orders.  On  my  dejucher — 
coming  down  from  the  roost— from  the  college,  to 
employ  an  old  and  very  picturesque  word,  the  Abbe 
Loraux  took  me  into  his  rectory  and  caused  me  to 
go  through  with  my  law  studies.  During  the  four 
years  of  studies  necessary  to  take  all  the  grades,  I 


l8  HONORINE 

worked  industriously,  and  especially  outside  the  arid 
fields  of  jurisprudence.  Separated  from  all  literature 
at  the  college,  where  I  lived  in  the  house  of  the  head- 
master, I  had  a  great  thirst  to  extinguish.  As  soon  as 
I  had  read  a  few  of  the  modern  masterpieces,  the 
works  of  all  the  preceding  centuries  were  taken  up. 
1  developed  a  passion  for  the  theatres,  1  attended  them 
every  day  for  a  long  time,  although  my  uncle  only 
gave  me  a  hundred  francs  a  month.  This  parsimony, 
to  which  his  tenderness  for  the  poor  restricted  this 
good,  old  man,  had  for  its  effect  to  restrain  the  young 
man's  appetites  within  just  bounds.  At  the  period 
of  my  entry  into  Comte  Octave's  household,  I  was 
not  an  innocent,  but  I  considered  my  rare  escapades 
as  so  many  crimes.  My  uncle  was  so  truly  angelic, 
1  feared  so  much  to  distress  him,  that  I  had  never 
passed  a  night  outside  his  doors  during  these  four 
years.  This  good  man  waited  for  my  return  before 
going  to  bed  himself.  This  maternal  solicitude  had 
more  power  in  restraining  me  than  all  the  sermons 
and  all  the  reproaches  with  which  the  life  of  young 
people  is  encrusted  in  puritanical  families.  A 
stranger  to  the  different  worlds  which  compose  Paris- 
ian society,  I  knew  of  the  women  comma  ilfaut  and  of 
the  bourgeoises  only  what  I  saw  in  my  walks,  or  in 
the  boxes  at  the  theatres,  and  that  at  the  distance 
from  the  parterre  where  I  was.  If,  at  that  time, 
some  one  had  said  to  me, — 'You  are  going  to  see 
Canalis  or  Camille  Maupin,'  I  should  have  had  my 
head  and  my  heart  on  fire.  Famous  people  were  to 
me  like  the  gods,  who  did  not  speak,  did  not  walk, 


HONORINE  19 

did  not  eat,  like  other  men.  How  many  tales  of  the 
Thousand  and  One  Nights  are  contained  in  one  adoles- 
cence !— how  many  IVonderful  Lamps  is  it  not  neces- 
sary to  handle  before  recognizing  that  the  true 
Wonderful  Lamp  is  either  chance,  or  work,  or 
genius !  For  some  men,  this  dream  of  the  awakened 
intelligence  is  of  short  duration;  mine  still  endures! 
At  that  time  I  fell  asleep  every  night  grand  duke 
of  Tuscany, — millionaire,— loved  by  a  princess, — or 
famous! 

"Thus,  to  enter  the  household  of  the  Comte  Oc- 
tave, to  have  a  hundred  louis  a  year  for  myself,  was 
to  enter  on  an  independent  life.  I  foresaw  some  op- 
portunities for  entering  society,  for  seeking  there 
that  which  my  heart  desired  the  most,  a  protectress 
who  would  draw  me  from  the  dangerous  way  in 
which  young  men  of  twenty-two  years  of  age  neces- 
sarily wander  in  Paris,  however  wise  and  carefully 
educated  they  may  be.  I  began  to  fear  myself. 
The  industrious  study  of  international  law,  in  which 
I  immersed  myself,  did  not  always  suffice  to  repress 
cruel  fancies.  Yes,  sometimes  1  gave  myself  up  in 
imagination  to  the  theatrical  life;  I  thought  1  had  it 
in  me  to  become  a  great  actor ;  I  dreamed  of  triumphs 
and  of  loves  without  end,  ignorant  of  the  deceptions 
concealed  behind  the  curtain,  as  everywhere  else, 
for  every  scene  has  its  reverse  side.  I  have  some- 
times issued  forth,  with  my  heart  throbbing,  carried 
away  by  the  desire  to  beat  up  the  streets  of  Paris, 
like  a  wood  for  game,  to  attach  myself  to  some 
beautiful  woman  whom  1  might  encounter,  to  follow 


20  HONORINE 

her  to  her  door,  to  set  a  watch  on  her,  to  write  to 
her,  to  confide  in  her  entirely  and  to  vanquish  her 
by  strength  of  loving.  My  poor  uncle,  that  heart 
eaten  up  by  charity,  that  child  of  seventy  years, 
intelligent  as  God,  ingenuous  as  a  man  of  genius, 
divined  doubtless  the  tumult  of  my  soul,  for  he 
never  failed  to  say  to  me, — 'Here,  Maurice,  you  are 
one  of  the  poor  also!  here  are  twenty  francs,  amuse 
yourself,  you  are  not  a  priest!'  when  he  felt  the 
cord  by  which  he  retained  me  stretched  too  tightly 
and  liable  to  break.  If  you  could  have  seen  the 
will-o'-the-wisp  fire  which  then  came  like  gold  into 
his  gray  eyes,  the  smile  which  parted  his  kindly 
lips  and  lifted  them  at  the  corners,  in  short,  the 
adorable  expression  of  this  august  visage,  the  prim- 
itive ugliness  of  which  was  rectified  by  an  apostolic 
spirit,  you  could  comprehend  the  sentiment  which 
compelled  me,  for  all  response,  to  embrace  the  cure 
of  the  Blancs-Manteaux  as  if  he  were  my  mother. 

"  'You  will  not  find  a  master,'  said  my  uncle  to 
me  as  we  went  to  the  Rue  Payenne,  'you  will  find 
a  friend  in  the  Comte  Octave;  but  he  is  suspicious, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  he  is  prudent.  The 
friendship  of  this  statesman  is  only  to  be  acquired 
in  the  course  of  time;  for,  notwithstanding  his  deep 
perspicacity  and  his  habit  of  judging  men,  he  was 
deceived  by  him  whom  you  succeed,  he  all  but  be- 
came the  victim  of  an  abuse  of  confidence.  This  is 
enough  to  say  to  you  concerning  your  conduct  in  his 
household.' 

"When  we  knocked  at  the  immense  great  gate  of 


HONORINE  21 

a  h6tel  as  vast  as  the  Hotel  Carnavelet  and  situated 
between  a  court  and  a  garden,  the  sound  re-echoed 
as  through  a  solitude.  While  my  uncle  asked  an 
old  porter  in  livery  for  the  count,  1  threw  one  of 
those  glances  which  see  everything  on  the  court  in 
which  the  pavement  disappeared  under  the  grass, 
upon  the  blackened  walls  which  enclosed  little  gar- 
dens superior  to  all  the  decorations  of  a  charming 
architecture,  and  upon  roofs  as  high  as  those  of  the 
Tuileries.  The  balustrades  of  the  upper  galleries 
were  rusted.  Through  a  magnificent  arcade  I  per- 
ceived a  second  court,  a  lateral  one,  in  which  were 
the  servant's  quarters,  the  doors  of  which  were  de- 
caying. An  old  coachman  was  there  washing  an  old 
carriage.  From  the  careless  air  of  this  domestic  it 
was  readily  to  be  presumed  that  the  sumptuous 
stables  in  which  so  many  horses  formerly  neighed 
now  sheltered  two  at  the  most.  The  superb  facade 
of  the  court  seemed  to  me  to  be  gloomy,  like  that 
of  a  hotel  belonging  to  the  State  or  to  the  Crown 
and  which  is  abandoned  to  some  public  service. 
The  stroke  of  a  bell  sounded  as  we  went,  my  uncle 
and  I,  from  the  porter's  lodge — there  was  still  to  be 
seen  above  the  door,  'Inquire  of  the  Porter' — to- 
ward the  perron,  from  which  descended  a  valet 
whose  livery  resembled  that  of  the  Labranches  of 
the  Theatre  Francais  in  the  old  repertoire.  A  visit 
was  so  rare  that  the  domestic  finished  getting 
into  his  great  coat  as  he  opened  a  glass  door  with 
little  panes,  on  each  side  of  which  the  smoke  of  the 
two  lamps  had  designed  stars  upon  the  walls.     A 


22  HONORINE 

peristyle  of  a  magnificence  worthy  of  Versailles 
allowed  to  be  seen  one  of  those  staircases  such  as 
are  no  longer  constructed  in  France,  and  which  oc- 
cupy the  space  of  a  modern  house.  In  ascending 
the  stone  steps,  cold  as  tombstones,  and  on  which 
eight  persons  might  march  abreast,  our  footsteps 
resounded  under  enormous  vaults.  You  could  have 
believed  yourself  in  a  cathedral.  The  balustrades 
interested  the  eye  by  the  miracles  of  that  gold- 
smith's work  of  the  ironworker  in  which  unroll 
themselves  the  fantasies  of  some  artist  of  the  reign 
of  Henri  III.  Enveloped  in  an  icy  mantle  which 
fell  upon  our  shoulders,  we  traversed  the  antecham- 
bers, a  range  of  salons  with  polished  wood  floors, 
carpetless,  furnished  with  those  superb  old-fashioned 
pieces  which,  from  such  places  as  these,  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  dealers  in  curiosities.  Finally  we 
arrived  at  a  grand  cabinet  situated  in  a  square 
pavilion  all  the  windows  of  which  opened  on  a  great 
garden. 

"  'Monsieur  le  Cure  des  Blancs-Manteaux  and  his 
nephew,  Monsieur  de  THostall'  announced  the  La- 
branche  to  whose  care  we  had  been  confided  by  the 
theatrical  valet  in  the  first  antechamber. 

"The  Comte  Octave,  who  was  dressed  in  a  red- 
ingote  of  gray  swanskin  and  pantaloons  with  feet, 
like  hose,  rose  from  an  immense  desk,  came  to  the 
chimney-piece  and  made  me  a  sign  to  be  seated, 
taking  my  uncle's  hands  and  pressing  them 
warmly. 

"  'Although  I  am  of  the  parish  of  Saint-Paul,'  he 


<<  < 


HONORINE  23 

said  to  him,  'it  would  be  strange  if  I  had  not  heard 
of  the  cure  of  the  Blancs-Manteaux,  and  I  am  happy 
to  make  his  acquaintance.' 

"'Your  Excellency  is  very  kind,'  replied  my 
uncle.  *I  bring  to  you  the  only  relative  left  me. 
If  I  believe  myself  to  be  making  a  present  to  Your 
Excellency,  I  think  also  that  I  am  giving  my 
nephew  a  second  father.' 

"'1  can  reply  to  you  concerning  that,  Monsieur 
I'Abbe,  when  we  have  tried  each  other,  your  nephew 
and  I,'  said  Comte  Octave.  'What  is  your  name?' 
he  asked  me. 

"  'Maurice.' 
'He  is  a  Doctor  of  Laws,'  observed  my  uncle. 
'Good,  good,'  said  the  count,  looking  at  me  from 
head  to  foot.  'Monsieur  I'Abbe,  I  hope  that,  for  your 
nephew  in  the  first  place,  and  secondly  for  myself, 
you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  dine  here  every  Monday. 
It  will  be  our  dinner,  our  family  gathering.' 

"My  uncle  and  the  count  began  to  talk  religion 
from  the  political  point  of  view,  works  of  charity, 
suppression  of  offences,  and  I  could  then  examine  at 
my  ease  the  man  on  whom  my  destiny  was  to  de- 
pend. The  count  was  of  medium  stature,  his  gar- 
ments prevented  me  from  judging  of  his  proportions ; 
but  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  thin  and  dry.  His  coun- 
tenance was  harsh  and  sunken.  The  features  ex- 
pressed shrewdness  and  intelligence.  The  mouth, 
somewhat  large,  indicated  at  once  irony  and  good- 
ness. The  forehead,  too  vast  perhaps,  terrified  as 
if  it  had  been  that  of  a  madman,  all  the  more  so 


24  HONORINE 

that  it  was  in  strong  contrast  with  the  lower  part  of 
the  face,  which  terminated  suddenly  in  a  little  chin 
brought  up  very  close  to  the  under  lip.  Two  eyes 
of  a  turquoise  blue,  as  keen  and  intelligent  as  those 
of  the  Prince  de  Talleyrand,  whom  I  admired  later, 
and,  like  those  of  the  prince,  equally  endowed  with 
the  power  of  non-expression  until  they  became 
actually  dull,  contributed  to  the  strange  character  of 
this  face,  not  pale,  but  yellow.  This  color  seemed 
to  indicate  an  irritable  character  and  violent  pas- 
sions. The  hair,  already  silvered,  carefully  brushed, 
marked  the  head  with  the  alternate  colors  of  black 
and  white.  The  fastidiousness  of  this  dressing  of 
the  hair  interfered  with  the  resemblance  which  I 
found  in  the  count  to  that  extraordinary  monk 
whom  Lewis  has  brought  on  the  scene  after  the 
Schedoni  of  the  Confessional  of  the  Black  Penitents, 
which  seems  to  me  to  be  a  creation  superior  to  that 
of  the  Monk.  As  became  a  man  who  had  to  present 
himself  at  the  Palais  at  an  early  hour,  the  count 
was  already  shaved.  Two  four-branched  candle- 
sticks, furnished  with  shades,  placed  at  the  two  ex- 
tremities of  his  desk,  and  the  candles  of  which  were 
still  burning,  revealed  with  sufficient  clearness  that 
the  magistrate  had  risen  before  daylight.  His 
hands,  which  I  saw  when  he  took  hold  of  the  bell- 
cord  to  ring  for  his  valet  de  chambre,  were  very 
handsome,  and  as  white  as  those  of  a  woman — 

"In  relating  to  you  this  history,"  said  the  consul- 
general,  interrupting  himself,  "I  do  not  give  you  the 
exact  social  position  or  the  titles  of  this  personage, 


HONORINE  25 

though  I  show  him  to  you  in  a  situation  analogous 
to  his  own.  Position,  dignity,  luxury,  fortune, 
manner  of  life,  all  these  details  are  true;  but  1  do 
not  wish  to  betray  my  benefactor  or  abandon  my 
habits  of  discretion. 

"Instead  of  feeling  myself  that  which  I  really 
was,"  resumed  the  consul-general  after  a  pause, 
"speaking  of  social  position,  an  insect  before  an 
eagle,  I  experienced  I  know  not  what  undefmable 
sentiment  at  the  count's  aspect,  and  which  I  can 
explain  to-day.  The  artists  of  genius — "  and  he 
made  a  slight  and  graceful  inclination  before  the 
ambassador,  the  famous  woman  and  the  two  Pa- 
risians,— "the  true  statesmen,  the  poets,  a  general 
who  has  commanded  armies,  in  short,  the  really 
great  personages,  are  simple;  and  their  simplicity 
puts  you  on  the  same  footing  with  themselves. 
You  who  are  superior  in  intelligence,  perhaps  you 
have  remarked,"  he  said,  addressing  his  guests, 
"how  much  feeling  abridges  the  mental  separations 
created  by  society.  If  we  are  inferior  to  you  in  in- 
telligence, we  may  equal  you  in  friendly  devotion. 
In  the  temperature — permit  me  this  expression — of 
our  hearts,  I  felt  myself  as  near  to  my  protector  as 
I  was  inferior  to  him  in  rank.  In  short,  the  soul 
has  its  clairvoyance,  it  is  conscious  of  the  sorrow, 
the  vexation,  the  joy,  the  reproof,  the  hatred,  in 
the  heart  of  another.  I  recognized  vaguely  the 
symptoms  of  a  mystery,  in  recognizing  in  the  count 
the  same  revelations  of  the  physiognomy  that  I  had 
-observed  in  my  uncle.     The  exercise  of  the  virtues, 


26  HONORINE 

the  serenity  of  the  conscience,  the  purity  of  the 
thought,  had  transfigured  my  uncle,  who  from  ugly, 
had  become  very  beautiful.  I  perceived  a  reversed 
metamorphosis  in  the  count's  visage;  at  the  first 
glance  I  had  taken  him  for  fifty-five,  but,  after  an 
attentive  examination,  I  recognized  a  youthfulness 
buried  under  the  ice  of  a  profound  grief,  under  the 
fatigue  of  obstinately  pursued  studies,  under  the 
warm  tones  of  some  passion  crossed.  At  a  word 
from  my  uncle,  the  count's  eyes  became  for  a 
moment  as  fresh  as  a  periwinkle,  he  had  an  admir- 
ing smile  which  revealed  him  to  me  at  an  age  which  I 
thought  to  be  the  true  one,  about  forty.  I  did  not 
make  these  observations  at  that  time,  but  later,  in 
recalling  the  circumstances  of  this  visit. 

"The  valet  de  chambre  entered,  carrying  a  waiter 
on  which  was  his  master's  dejeuner. 

"  'I  did  not  ring  for  my  dejeuner,'  said  the  count, 
'leave  it  there  however,  and  take  monsieur  upstairs 
to  show  him  his  apartment' 

**I  followed  the  valet  de  chambre,  who  conducted 
me  to  a  pretty  suite  of  rooms  all  complete,  situated 
below  the  flat  roof,  between  the  court  of  honor  and 
the  servant's  offices,  over  a  gallery  by  means  of 
which  the  kitchens  communicated  with  the  grand 
staircase  of  the  hotel.  When  I  returned  to  the 
count's  cabinet,  I  heard,  before  I  opened  the  door, 
my  uncle  pronouncing  this  judgment  upon  me: 

"  'He  may  commit  a  fault,  for  he  has  a  great  deal 
of  heart,  and  we  are  all  liable  to  honorable  errors; 
but  he  has  no  vices.' 


HONORINE  27 

"  'Well,'  said  the  count,  giving  me  an  affectionate 
glance,  '  will  you  please  yourself  there,  do  you  think  ? 
There  are  so  many  apartments  in  this  barracks 
that,  if  you  are  not  comfortable  there,  1  can  lodge 
you  elsewhere.' 

"  'I  have  only  one  room  in  my  uncle's  house,'  I 
replied. 

"  'Well,  you  can  move  in  this  evening,'  said  the 
count  to  me,  'for  you  have  doubtless  the  furniture 
of  all  students,  a  hackney  coach  will  suffice  to 
transport  it.  For  to-day,  we  will  dine  together,  we 
three,'  he  added,  looking  at  my  uncle. 

"A  magnificent  library  adjoined  the  count's  cab- 
inet, he  led  us  into  it,  showed  me  a  coquettish  little 
corner  ornamented  with  paintings,  which  had  for- 
merly served  as  an  oratory. 

"'There  is  your  cell,'  he  said  to  me;  'you  will 
keep  yourself  there  when  you  have  to  work  with 
me,  for  you  shall  not  be  fastened  with  a  chain.' 

"And  he  proceeded  to  detail  to  me  the  nature  and 
the  duration  of  my  occupations  while  with  him ;  as 
1  listened  to  him  i  recognized  in  him  a  great  political 
preceptor.  I  took  about  a  month  to  familiarize  my- 
self with  things  and  people,  to  study  the  duties  of  my 
new  position  and  to  accustom  myself  to  the  count's 
methods.  A  secretary  necessarily  observes  closely 
the  man  in  whose  service  he  is.  The  tastes,  the 
passions,  the  character,  the  whims  of  this  man  be- 
come the  object  of  an  involuntary  study.  The 
union  of  these  two  intelligences  is  at  the  same  time 
more   and    less   than   a   marriage.      During    three 


28  HONORINE 

months  the  Comte  Octave  and  I,  we  spied  on  each 
other  reciprocally.  I  learned  with  astonishment  that 
the  count  was  only  thirty-seven.  The  purely  ex- 
terior peacefulness  of  his  life  and  the  wisdom  of  his 
conduct  did  not  proceed  solely  from  a  profound  sen- 
timent of  duty  and  from  stoical  reflection ;  in  associ- 
ating with  this  man,  extraordinary  for  those  who 
knew  him  well,  I  was  conscious  of  vast  depths  under 
his  labors,  under  his  acts  of  politeness,  under  his 
mask  of  benevolence,  under  his  resigned  attitude, 
which  resembled  calmness  so  closely  that  one 
might  readily  be  deceived.  As  in  walking  through 
a  forest,  there  are  certain  localities  which  announce 
by  the  sound  under  the  feet  whether  you  are  walk- 
ing over  great  rocks  or  concealed  hollows;  in  the 
same  manner,  the  concentrated  egotism  hidden 
under  the  flowers  of  politeness  and  the  voids  caused 
by  unhappiness  sound  hollow  at  the  perpetual  con- 
tact of  daily  life.  It  was  sorrow  and  not  discourage- 
ment that  dwelt  in  this  truly  great  soul.  The  count 
had  comprehended  that  action,  that  the  fact,  is  the 
supreme  law  of  the  social  man.  Thus  he  went  on 
his  way  notwithstanding  his  secret  wounds,  and 
regarded  the  future  with  a  serene  eye,  like  a  martyr 
full  of  faith.  His  hidden  grief,  the  bitter  deception 
which  he  had  suffered,  had  not  ended  by  bringing 
him  to  the  philosophical  regions  of  incredulity ;  this 
courageous  statesman  was  religious,  but  without  any 
ostentation:  he  went  to  the  early  mass  which  was 
given  at  Saint-Paul  for  the  workpeople  and  pious 
domestics.     None  of  his  friends,  no  one  at  Court, 


HONORINE  29 

knew  that  he  was  so  faithful  in  his  religious  observ- 
ances. He  practised  the  worship  of  God  as  certain 
honest  people  practise  a  vice,  in  profound  secrecy. 
Thus  was  1  to  find  one  day  the  count  lifted  upon  an 
Alp  of  unhappiness  much  more  lofty  than  those  on 
which  they  maintain  themselves  who  believe  them- 
selves the  most  tried,  who  rail  at  the  passions  and 
the  beliefs  of  others  because  they  have  vanquished 
their  own,  who  play  variations  on  all  the  tones  of 
irony  and  of  disdain.  He  had  no  mockery  then, 
either  for  those  who  follow  hope  into  all  the  sloughs 
into  which  she  leads  you,  or  for  those  who  ascend 
a  lofty  peak  there  to  isolate  themselves,  or  for  those 
who  persist  in  maintaining  the  struggle,  reddening 
the  arena  with  their  blood  and  strewing  it  with 
their  illusions;  he  saw  the  world  in  its  entirety,  he 
surmounted  the  beliefs,  he  listened  to  the  com- 
plaints, he  mistrusted  the  affections  and,  above  all, 
the  devotions;  but  this  great,  this  severe  magistrate 
was  sympathetic,  he  admired  them,  not  with  a 
passing  enthusiasm,  but  by  his  silence,  by  an  in- 
ward withdrawing,  by  the  communion  of  a  soul 
made  tender.  He  was  a  species  of  Manfred,  catho- 
lic and  without  crime,  carrying  curiosity  in  his 
faith,  melting  the  snows  in  the  heat  of  a  volcano  with- 
out an  outlet,  holding  converse  with  a  star  which 
he  alone  saw!  I  recognized  many  obscure  things 
in  his  outward  life.  He  concealed  himself  from  my 
observation,  not  like  the  traveler  who,  following  a 
route,  disappears  according  to  the  inequalities  of 
the  land  in  bogs  or  in  ravines,  but  like  a  watchful 


30  HONORINE 

skirmisher  who  wishes  to  conceal  himself  and  who 
seeks  for  shelter.     1  did  not  understand  his  frequent 
absences,  at  the  moments  when  he  was  the  most 
occupied,  and  which  he  did  not  conceal  from  me,  for 
he  said  to  me,  in  confiding  to  me  his  task,— 'Con- 
tinue this  for  me.'     This  man,  so  completely  en- 
veloped in  the  triple  obligations  of  the  statesman, 
the  magistrate  and  the  orator,  pleased  me  by  that 
taste  for  flowers  which  reveals  a  noble  soul,  and 
which  nearly  all  delicate  natures  have.     His  garden 
and  his  cabinet  were  full  of  the  most  curious  plants, 
which  he  always  bought  faded.     Perhaps  he  amused 
himself   with   this    image   of    his   own  destiny! — 
he  was  withered    like  these  flowers  ready  to  die, 
and   the   almost    decomposed    perfumes   of   which 
caused  him  strange  intoxications.     The  count  loved 
his  country,  he   devoted  himself  to  the  public  in- 
terests with  the  fury  of  a  heart  which  wishes  to 
master  another  passion;  but  neither  study  nor  the 
labors  into  which  he  plunged  sufficed  him;  there 
took    place  within    him    frightful    conflicts,   some 
flashes  of  which  reached  me.     In  short,  he  allowed 
to  be  perceived  heart-breaking  aspirations  toward 
happiness,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  might  yet 
be  happy;  but  what  was  the  obstacle?    Was  he  in 
love  with  a  woman  ?     This  was  a  question  that  I 
put  to  myself.     You  may  judge  of  the  extent  of  the 
circles  of  sorrow  which  my  mind  must  have  inter- 
rogated before  arriving  at  so  simple  and  so  formid- 
able a  question.      Notwithstanding  his  efforts  then, 
my  patron  did  not  succeed  in  smothering  the  action 


HONORINE  31 

of  his  heart.  Under  his  austere  pose,  under  the 
silence  of  the  magistrate,  there  was  struggling  a 
passion  repressed  with  so  much  power  that  no  one 
except  myself,  his  messmate  as  it  were,  had  sus- 
pected this  secret.  His  device  seemed  to  be,— 'I 
suffer  and  I  am  silent'  The  accompaniment  of  re- 
spect and  of  admiration  which  followed  him,  the 
friendship  of  intrepid  workers  like  himself,  of  the 
Presidents  Granville  and  Serizy,  had  no  hold  on 
the  count;  either  he  revealed  to  them  nothing,  or 
they  knew  all.  Impassive,  carrying  his  head  high 
in  public,  the  count  betrayed  the  man  only  at  rare 
intervals,  when,  alone  in  his  garden,  in  his  cabinet, 
he  thought  himself  unobserved;  but  then  he  became 
a  child  again,  he  gave  free  vent  to  the  tears  con- 
cealed under  his  toga,  to  the  exaltations  which,  per- 
haps wrongly  interpreted,  might  have  injured  his 
reputation  for  perspicacity  as  a  statesman.  When 
all  these  things  had  arrived  at  the  state  of  certainty 
for  me,  the  Comte  Octave  had  acquired  all  the  at- 
tractions of  a  problem,  and  had  obtained  as  much 
affection  as  if  he  were  my  own  father.  Can  you 
comprehend  curiosity  repressed  by  respect? — What 
misfortune  had  overwhelmed  this  learned  man  de- 
voted, from  the  age  of  eighteen,  like  Pitt,  to  the 
studies  that  lead  to  power,  and  who  had  no  ambi- 
tion;  this  judge  who  was  versed  in  diplomatic  law, 
political  law,  civil  and  criminal  law,  and  who  could 
draw  thence  arms  against  all  disquietudes  or  against 
all  errors;  this  profound  legislator,  this  serious 
writer,  this  religious  celibate  whose  life  revealed 


32  HONORINE 

clearly  enough  that  he  incurred  no  reproach?  A 
criminal  would  not  have  been  punished  more  severely 
by  God  than  was  my  patron :  grief  had  destroyed 
the  half  of  his  slumber,  he  never  slept  more  than 
four  hours !  What  contest  existed  at  the  bottom  of 
these  hours  which  passed  apparently  calm,  studious, 
without  noise  or  murmur,  and  during  which  1  have 
often  surprised  him  with  the  pen  fallen  from  his 
fingers,  his  head  supported  on  his  hand,  his  eyes 
like  two  stars  fixed  and  sometimes  wet  with  tears? 
How  was  it  that  the  water  of  this  living  spring 
flowed  over  a  burning  strand  without  being  dried  up 
by  the  subterranean  fires  ? — Was  there,  as  under  the 
sea,  between  it  and  the  internal  fires  of  the  globe,  a 
bed  of  granite?  In  short,  would  the  volcano  break 
out? — Sometimes,  the  count  looked  at  me  with  the 
keen  and  sagacious  curiosity,  though  rapid,  with 
which  a  man  examines  another  when  he  seeks  a  con- 
federate; then  he  avoided  my  eyes  when  he  saw 
them  open,  as  it  were,  like  a  mouth  which  desires  a 
response  and  which  seems  to  say, — 'Do  you  speak 
first*  Occasionally  the  Comte  Octave  betrayed  a 
wild  and  morose  sadness.  If  the  explosions  of  this 
humor  wounded  me,  he  knew  how  to  make  returns 
without  asking  my  pardon  in  the  least;  but  his 
manners  then  became  gracious  even  to  the  extent  of 
the  humility  of  the  Christian.  When  I  had  con- 
ceived a  filial  attachment  for  this  man,  mysterious 
for  me,  so  comprehensible  for  the  world  to  whom 
the  word  original  suffices  to  explain  all  the  enigmas 
of  the  heart,  I  brought  about  a  change  in  the  aspect 


HONORINE  33 

of  the  household.  The  neglect  of  his  own  interests 
amounted  with  the  count  to  stupidity  in  the  con- 
duct of  his  affairs.  With  a  fortune  of  about  a  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  francs  of  income,  without 
counting  the  emoluments  of  his  offices,  three  of 
which  were  not  subject  to  the  law  against  holding 
two  offices  at  once,  he  expended  sixty  thousand 
francs,  thirty  of  which,  at  the  least,  went  to  his 
domestics.  At  the  end  of  the  first  year  I  sent  away 
all  these  scamps,  and  requested  His  Excellency  to 
use  his  interest  to  aid  me  in  finding  honest  people. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  year,  the  count,  better  fed, 
better  served,  enjoyed  some  of  the  modern  comforts; 
he  had  some  fine  horses  belonging  to  a  coachman  to 
whom  1  gave  so  much  a  month  for  each  horse ;  his 
dinners,  on  his  reception  days,  served  by  Chevet  at 
a  price  that  had  been  carefully  settled,  did  him  honor ; 
his  daily  fare  was  the  care  of  an  excellent  cook  whom 
my  uncle  had  procured,  aided  by  two  kitchen  maids; 
the  expense,  not  including  the  purchases,  did  not 
amount  to  more  than  thirty  thousand  francs ;  we  had 
two  more  domestics  whose  cares  restored  to  the 
hotel  all  its  poetry,  for  this  old  place,  so  beautiful 
in  its  decay,  had  a  majesty  which  was  dishonored 
by  neglect. 

"  'I  am  no  longer  surprised,'  he  said  on  learning 
these  results,  'at  the  fortunes  which  my  servants 
have  made.  In  seven  years  1  have  had  two  cooks 
become  rich  restaurant  keepers!' 

"  'You  have  lost  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  seven  years,'  I  replied.  'And  you,  a  magistrate, 
3 


34  HONORINE 

who  sign  at  the  Palais,  judgments  against  crime, 
you  have  encouraged  robbery  in  your  own  house.' 

"At  the  commencement  of  the  year  1826,  the 
count  had  doubtless  concluded  his  observations  upon 
me,  and  we  were  as  united  as  two  men  can  be  when 
one  is  the  subordinate  of  the  other.  He  had  said 
nothing  to  me  of  my  future;  but  he  had  devoted 
himself,  like  a  master  and  like  a  father,  to  my  in- 
struction. Frequently  he  caused  me  to  reassemble 
all  the  materials  of  his  most  arduous  labors,  I  drew 
up  some  of  his  reports,  and  he  corrected  them,  indi- 
cating to  me  the  differences  between  his  interpreta- 
tions of  the  law,  his  views,  and  mine.  When, 
finally,  I  had  produced  a  work  that  he  could  give 
out  as  his  own,  he  manifested  a  joy  which  served 
me  as  a  recompense,  and  he  perceived  that  I  took  it 
as  such.  This  little  incident,  so  momentary,  pro- 
duced upon  this  soul,  severe  in  appearance,  an  ex- 
traordinary effect.  The  count  passed  judgment 
upon  me,  to  make  use  of  judicial  language,  as  a 
court  of  last  appeal,  and  supreme;  he  took  hold  of  me 
and  kissed  me  on  the  forehead. 

"  'Maurice,'  he  exclaimed,  'you  are  no  longer  my 
companion,  I  do  not  know  yet  what  you  will  be  to 
me;  but  if  my  life  does  not  change,  perhaps  you 
may  stand  to  me  in  place  of  a  son !' 

"The  Comte  Octave  had  presented  me  in  the  best 
houses  of  Paris,  where  I  went  in  his  place,  with  his 
servants  and  his  carriage,  on  the  too  frequent  occa- 
sions when,  ready  to  set  out,  he  changed  his  mind 
and    sent  for   a   public    cabriolet,    to    go — where.? 


HONORINE  35 

There  was  the  mystery.  By  the  welcome  which  I 
received,  I  divined  the  sentiments  which  the  count 
entertained  for  me,  and  the  serious  nature  of  his 
recommendations.  As  attentive  as  a  father,  he 
supplied  all  my  needs  with  so  much  the  more  liber- 
ality that  my  discretion  obliged  him  always  to  think 
of  me.  About  the  end  of  the  month  of  January, 
1827,  at  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Serizy's  I  experi- 
enced such  a  constant  run  of  ill  fortune  at  play  that  I 
lost  two  thousand  francs,  and  1  did  not  wish  to  take 
them  from  the  sum  entrusted  to  me.  The  next  day, 
\  said  to  myself: 

"  'Should  I  go  and  ask  my  uncle  for  them,  or  con- 
fide in  the  count?' 

"1  resolved  on  the  latter  course. 

"'Yesterday,'  I  said  to  him  while  he  took  his 
dejeuner,  '1  lost  constantly  at  play,  1  was  nettled, 
I  kept  on,  I  owe  two  thousand  francs.  Will  you 
permit  me  to  take  these  two  thousand  francs  on  ac- 
count from  my  allowance  for  the  year?' 

"'No,'  he  said  with  a  charming  smile.  'When 
you  play,  in  society,  you  should  have  a  sum  for  play. 
Take  six  thousand  francs,  pay  your  debts;  we  shall 
have  settled  half  our  account  to-day,  for,  if  you 
usually  represent  me,  at  least  your  self-respect 
should  not  suffer  for  it. ' 

"I  did  not  thank  the  count.  Thanks  would  have 
seemed  to  him  to  be  superfluous  between  us.  This 
slight  detail  will  indicate  to  you  the  nature  of  our 
relations.  Nevertheless,  we  had  not  an  unlimited 
confidence  in  each  other,  he  did  not  reveal  to  me 


36  HONORINE 

those  immense  subterranean  crypts  which  I  had 
recognized  in  his  secret  life,  and,  for  my  part,  I  did 
not  say  to  him, — 'What  troubles  you?  from  what 
evil  are  you  suffering?'  What  did  he  do  during  his 
long  evenings  ?  Frequently  he  returned  on  foot,  or 
in  a  public  cabriolet,  while  I  came  home  in  a  car- 
riage, 1,  his  secretary!  A  man  so  pious,  was  he 
then  the  prey  of  vices  hypocritically  concealed? 
Did  he  employ  all  the  forces  of  his  intelligence  in 
satisfying  a  jealousy  more  skilful  than  that  of 
Othello?  Was  he  living  with  a  wife  who  was  un- 
worthy of  him  ?  One  morning  when  returning  from 
I  do  not  remember  what  purveyor,  living  between 
St.  Paul  and  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  I  had  been 
to  pay  a  bill,  1  surprised  the  Comte  Octave  in  so 
animated  a  conversation  with  an  old  woman  that  he 
did  not  perceive  me.  The  countenance  of  this  old 
woman  awoke  strange  suspicions  within  me,  sus- 
picions all  the  better  founded  that  I  did  not  see  the 
count  making  any  use  of  his  savings.  Is  it  not  a 
dreadful  thought?  I  was  constituting  myself  the 
censor  of  my  patron.  At  that  moment  I  knew  that 
he  had  more  than  six  hundred  thousand  francs  to 
invest,  and  if  he  had  employed  them  in  purchasing 
shares  of  stock,  his  confidence  in  me  was  so  com- 
plete that  I  could  not  have  remained  in  ignorance  of 
it.  Sometimes  the  count  walked  up  and  down  in  his 
garden  in  the  morning,  turning  and  returning  like  a 
man  to  whom  the  walk  was  the  hippogriff  on  which 
a  melancholy  dreamer  might  mount.  He  came!  he 
went!  he  rubbed  his  hands  as  though  he  would  take 


HONORINE  37 

the  skin  from  them !  And  when  I  came  suddenly 
upon  him,  accosting  him  at  the  turning  of  an  alley, 
1  saw  his  countenance  expand.  His  eyes,  instead 
of  having  the  dryness  of  the  turquoise,  took  on  that 
velvet  quality  of  the  periwinkle  which  had  struck 
me  so  forcibly  at  my  first  visit,  because  of  the  sur- 
prising contrast  between  these  two  so  different  ex- 
pressions, that  of  the  happy  man  and  that  of  the 
unhappy  man.  On  two  or  three  occasions,  at  these 
moments,  he  seized  me  by  the  arm,  he  led  me  away, 
then  he  said  to  me, — 'What  were  you  going  to  ask 
me  ?'  instead  of  pouring  his  joy  into  my  heart  which 
opened  to  him.  Frequently  also,  the  unhappy  man, 
especially  when  I  could  replace  him  in  his  labors  and 
draw  up  his  reports,  remained  for  entire  hours 
watching  the  goldfish  which  swam  about  in  a  mag- 
nificent marble  basin  in  the  midst  of  his  garden,  and 
around  which  the  most  beautiful  flowers  formed  an 
amphitheatre.  This  statesman  seemed  to  have  suc- 
ceeded in  making  a  passion  of  the  mechanical  pleas- 
ure of  crumbling  bread  for  the  fishes. 

"It  was  in  this  manner  that  was  finally  discovered 
the  drama  of  this  inward  existence  so  profoundly 
ravaged,  so  agitated,  and  where,  in  a  circle  forgotten 
by  Dante  in  his  Inferno,  there  were  begc  tten  horri- 
ble joys — " 

The  consul-general  made  a  pause. 

"On  a  certain  Monday,"  he  resumed,  "it  so  hap- 
pened that  Monsieur  le  President  de  Granville  and 
Monsieur  de  Serizy,  then  vice  president  of  the 
council  of  State,  came  to  have  a  consultation  with 


189914 


38  HONORINE 

the  Comte  Octave.  These  three  constituted  a  com- 
mission of  which  I  was  the  secretary.  The  count 
had  already  caused  me  to  be  appointed  an  auditor  to 
the  council  of  State.  All  the  material  required  for  the 
examination  of  the  political  question  secretly  sub- 
mitted to  these  gentlemen  was  laid  out  on  one  of  the 
long  tables  in  our  library.  Messieurs  de  Gran- 
ville and  de  Serizy  had  sent  them  to  the  Comte 
Octave  for  the  preliminary  examination  of  the  doc- 
uments relating  to  their  task,  hi  order  to  avoid  the 
transportation  of  the  papers  to  the  house  of  Monsieur 
de  Serizy,  the  president  of  the  commission,  it  had 
been  agreed  that  the  meeting  should  take  place  at 
first  in  the  Rue  Payenne.  The  cabinet  of  the  Tuil- 
eries  attached  a  great  deal  of  importance  to  this 
work,  which  principally  devolved  upon  me,  and  to 
which  I  was  indebted,  in  the  course  of  this  year, 
for  my  appointment  as  referendary.  Although  the 
Comtes  de  Granville  and  de  Serizy,  whose  habits 
resembled  those  of  my  patron,  never  dined  outside 
their  own  houses,  we  were  surprised  debating  still 
at  an  hour  so  advanced  that  the  valet  de  chambre 
asked  for  me  to  say  to  me : 

"  'Messieurs  the  cures  of  Saint-Paul  and  of  the 
Blancs-Manteaux  have  been  waiting  in  the  salon  for 
two  hours.' 

"It  was  nine  o'clock! 

"  'You  will  be  obliged,  messieurs,  to  put  up  with 
a  cure's  dinner, '  said  the  Comte  Octave,  laughing,  to 
his  colleagues.  *I  do  not  know  if  Granville  can 
overcome  his  repugnance  to  the  cassock. ' 


HONORINE  39 

**  'That  depends  on  the  cures.' 

'"Oh!  one  is  my  uncle  and  the  other  is  the 
Abbe  Gaudron,'  I  replied  to  him.  'You  need  not 
fear,  the  Abbe  Fontanon  is  no  longer  vicar  of  Saint- 
Paul—' 

"  'Well,  let  us  dine,'  replied  President  de  Gran- 
ville. *A  hypocrite  terrifies  me;  but  I  do  not  know 
any  one  as  cheerful  as  a  truly  pious  man !' 

"And  we  went  into  the  salon.  The  dinner  was 
charming.  Men  who  are  really  well-informed, 
politicians  to  whom  the  conduct  of  affairs  gives  a 
consummate  experience  and  the  habit  of  speaking, 
are  admirable  story-tellers  when  they  know  how  to 
relate.  There  is  no  medium  for  them,  they  are 
either  heavy  or  they  are  sublime.  At  this  charm- 
ing diversion,  the  Prince  de  Metternich  is  as  expert 
as  Charles  Nodier.  Polished  in  facets,  like  a 
diamond,  the  jesting  of  statesmen  is  clean  cut,  spark- 
ling and  full  of  sense.— Confident  that  the  conven- 
tionalities would  be  observed  among  these  three  men 
of  superior  minds,  my  uncle  gave  free  play  to  his 
own  wit,  a  delicate  wit,  of  a  penetrating  softness, 
and  fine  as  is  that  of  all  those  men  accustomed  to 
concealing  their  thoughts  under  their  black  robes. 
Remember,  moreover,  that  there  was  nothing  of  com- 
mon or  of  idle  in  this  conversation,  which  1  would 
willingly  compare,  as  to  its  effect  on  the  soul,  to  the 
music  of  Rossini.  The  Abbe  Gaudron  was,  as 
Monsieur  de  Granville  said,  a  Saint-Peter  rather 
than  a  Saint-Paul,  a  peasant  filled  with  faith,  square 
cut  in  the  base  as  in  the  height,  a  sacerdotal  ox 


40  HONORINE 

whose  ignorance  in  matters  of  the  world  and  of  lit- 
erature served  to  animate  the  conversation  by  ingen- 
uous astonishments  and  unforeseen  interrogations. 
Finally  the  talk  turned  on  one  of  the  wounds  inherent 
in  the  social  state  and  with  which  we  had  just  been 
occupied,  adultery!  My  uncle  called  attention  to 
the  wide  divergence  which  the  legislators  of  the 
Code,  still  under  the  effects  of  the  storms  of  the 
Revolution,  had  established  in  it  between  the  civil 
law  and  the  religious  law,  and  from  which,  he 
thought,  came  all  the  evil ! 

"  'For  the  Church,'  he  said,  'adultery  is  a  crime; 
for  your  tribunals,  it  is  only  a  misdemeanor.  Adul- 
tery goes  in  a  carriage  to  appear  before  the  correc- 
tional police,  instead  of  taking  its  place  on  the 
prisoners'  bench  in  the  court  of  assizes.  Napoleon's 
council  of  State,  full  of  tenderness  for  the  culpable 
wife,  betrayed  great  incapacity.  Would  it  not  be 
advisable  to  bring  into  accord  in  this  the  civil  and 
the  religious  law,  and  send  to  the  convent  for  the 
rest  of  her  life,  as  formerly,  the  culpable  wife?' 

"'To  the  convent!'  replied  Monsieur  de  Serizy; 
'it  would  be  necessary  in  the  first  place  to  create 
convents,  and,  in  these  times,  they  are  converting 
the  monasteries  into  barracks.  And  then,  think  of 
it.  Monsieur  I'Abbe, — to  give  to  God  that  which  so- 
ciety will  not  have! — ' 

"'Oh!'  said  the  Comte  de  Granville^  'you  do 
not  know  France.  They  have  been  obliged  to  leave 
to  the  husband  the  right  of  complaint;  well,  there 
are  not  ten  complaints  of  adultery  in  a  year.' 


HONORINE  ,  41 

"'Monsieur  I'Abbe  preaches  for  his  saint,  for  it 
was  Jesus  Christ  who  created  adultery,'  said  Comte 
Octave,  'hi  the  Orient,  that  cradle  of  humanity, 
woman  was  only  a  thing  of  pleasure  and  one  thing 
was  accepted, — no  other  virtues  were  asked  of  her 
but  obedience  and  beauty.  By  making  the  soul 
superior  to  the  body,  the  modern  European  family, 
the  daughter  of  Jesus,  has  invented  the  indissoluble 
marriage,  it  has  made  of  it  a  sacrament' 

"  'Ah!  the  Church  has  indeed  recognized  all  the 
difficulties  in  the  way,'  cried  Monsieur  de  Granville. 

"'This  institution  has  produced  a  new  world,' 
resumed  the  count,  smiling;  'but  the  manners  of  this 
world  will  never  be  those  of  those  climates  in  which 
the  woman  attains  the  nubile  age  at  seven,  and  is 
more  than  old  at  twenty-five.  The  Cathol ic  Church 
has  forgotten  the  necessities  of  half  the  globe.  Let 
us  then  speak  of  Europe  only.  Is  woman  inferior 
to  us  or  superior  ?  that  is  the  true  question  with  re- 
lation to  ourselves.  If  woman  is  inferior  to  us,  in 
elevating  her  as  high  as  the  Church  has  done,  it  has 
necessitated  terrible  punishments  for  adultery. 
Therefore,  formerly,  it  was  so  carried  out.  The 
cloister  or  death,  this  was  the  whole  of  the  ancient 
legislation.  But,  since,  manners  have  modified  the 
laws,  as  always  happens.  The  throne  has  even 
served  as  a  couch  for  adultery,  and  the  progress  of 
this  pretty  crime  has  marked  the  enfeeblement  of 
the  dogmas  of  the  Catholic  Church.  To-day,  where 
the  Church  no  longer  demands  anything  but  a 
sincere  repentance  from   the  erring  wife,   society 


42  HONORINE 

contents  itself  with  a  brand  instead  of  a  torture. 
The  law,  it  is  true,  still  condemns  the  culpable  ones, 
but  it  no  longer  intimidates  them.  Finally,  there  are 
two  codes  of  morals, — that  of  the  world  and  that  of 
the  Code.  In  that  in  which  the  Code  is  feeble,  I 
recognize  it  as  well  as  our  dear  abbe,  the  world  is 
audacious  and  mocking.  There  are  but  few  judges 
who  would  not  have  wished  to  commit  the  misde- 
meanor against  which  they  launch  the  good-natured 
thunders  of  their  preambles.  The  world,  which  de- 
nies the  law,  in  its  fetes,  by  its  customs,  by  its 
pleasures,  is  more  severe  than  the  Code  and  the 
Church;  the  world  punishes  bungling  after  having 
encouraged  hypocrisy.  All  the  provisions  of  the 
law  concerning  marriage  seem  to  me  to  require  re- 
vision, from  top  to  bottom.  Perhaps  French  law 
would  be  perfect  if  it  proclaimed  the  exheredation 
of  daughters. ' 

"  'We  know  this  question,  we  three,  all  the  way 
to  the  bottom,'  caid  the  Comte  de  Granville,  laugh- 
ing. 'For  myself,  I  have  a  wife  with  whom  I  cannot 
live.  Serizy  has  a  wife  who  will  not  live  with  him. 
Yours,  Octave,  yours  has  left  you.  We  sum  up 
among  ourselves  then,  we  three,  all  the  conditions 
of  the  conjugal  conscience;  therefore,  we  shall 
doubtless  compose  the  commission,  if  ever  the  sub- 
ject of  divorce  is  returned  to.' 

"Octave's  fork  fell  on  his  glass,  broke  it,  broke 
the  plate.  The  count,  suddenly  pale  as  death,  threw 
upon  President  de  Granville  an  overwhelming 
look  in  which  he  indicated  me,  and  which  I  caught. 


HONORINE  43 

"  'Forgive  me,  my  friend,  I  did  not  see  Maurice,' 
replied  President  de  Granville.  'Serizyand  I,  we 
were  your  confederates  after  having  served  you 
as  your  witnesses;  I  did  not  think,  then,  of  com- 
mitting an  indiscretion  in  the  presence  of  these  two 
venerable  ecclesiastics.' 

"Monsieur  de  Serizy  changed  the  conversation  by 
relating  all  that  he  had  done  to  please  his  wife, 
without  having  ever  succeeded.  This  old  man  con- 
cluded by  finding  it  impossible  to  regulate  human 
sympathies  and  antipathies  by  too  many  rules;  he 
maintained  that  the  social  law  is  never  more  perfect 
than  when  it  approaches  the  natural  law.  Now, 
nature  takes  no  account  of  the  union  of  souls,  her 
aim  is  accomplished  by  the  propagation  of  the 
species.  Therefore,  the  present  Code  had  been 
very  wise  in  leaving  an  enormous  latitude  to  chance. 
The  exheredation  of  daughters,  so  long  as  there  are 
male  heirs,  was  an  excellent  modification,  either 
for  preventing  the  degeneracy  of  the  race,  or  for 
rendering  households  more  happy  by  suppressing 
scandalous  unions,  by  causing  the  moral  qualities 
and  beauty  to  be  the  only  attractions  sought. 

"  'But,'  he  added,  lifting  his  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  disgust,  'what  chance  is  there  of  perfecting  legis- 
lation when  a  country  insists  upon  bringing  together 
seven  or  eight  hundred  legislators!— After  all,'  he 
resumed,  'if  I  should  be  sacrificed,  1  have  a  child 
who  will  succeed  me — ' 

"  'Putting  aside  all  the  religious  question, '  replied 
my  uncle,  '1  would  observe  to  Your  Excellency  that 


44  HONORINE 

Nature  owes  us  only  life,  and  that  society  owes  us 
happiness.  Are  you  a  father?'  my  uncle  asked 
him, 

"  And  I,  have  1  children?'  said  the  Comte  Octave 
in  a  hollow  voice,  the  accent  of  which  caused  such 
an  impression  that  there  was  no  more  talk  either  of 
wives  or  of  marriage. 

"When  we  had  taken  coffee,  the  two  counts  and 
the  two  cures  went  away  on  seeing  the  poor  Octave 
fall  into  such  a  state  of  melancholy  that  he  was  not 
able  to  perceive  these  successive  disappearances. 
My  protector  was  seated  on  a  couch  at  the  corner  of 
the  fire,  in  the  attitude  of  a  man  overwhelmed. 

"  'You  know  the  secret  of  my  life,'  he  said  to  me 
when  he  perceived  that  we  were  alone.  'After 
three  years  of  marriage,  one  evening  on  my  return 
home  I  was  handed  a  letter  in  which  the  countess 
announced  to  me  her  flight.  This  letter  was  not 
wanting  in  nobility,  for  it  is  in  the  nature  of  women 
to  preserve  still  some  virtues  even  in  committing 
this  horrible  fault — To-day,  my  wife  is  thought  to 
have  embarked  on  a  vessel  that  was  shipwrecked, 
she  is  considered  dead.  I  have  been  living  alone 
for  seven  years ! — Enough  for  this  evening,  Maurice. 
We  will  talk  further  of  my  situation  when  I  shall 
have  become  accustomed  to  the  idea  of  speaking  to 
you  about  it.  When  one  suffers  from  a  chronic 
malady,  is  it  not  advisable  to  make  the  best  of  it? 
Often  the  best  appears  to  be  only  another  aspect  of 
the  malady. ' 

"I  went  to  bed  in  great  trouble,  for  the  mystery, 


>10N0RINE  45 

far  from  being  cleared  up,  seemed  to  me  more  and 
more  obscure.  I  divined  some  strange  drama,  for  I 
comprehended  that  there  could  be  nothing  common- 
place between  a  wife  whom  the  count  had  chosen 
and  a  character  like  his  own.  And  then  the  events 
which  had  driven  the  countess  to  leave  a  man  so 
noble,  so  considerate,  so  perfect,  so  loving,  so 
worthy  of  being  loved,  must  have  been  at  least 
singular.  Monsieur  de  Granville's  phrase  had  been 
like  a  torch  thrown  into  the  gloomy  caverns  in  which 
1  had  so  long  been  wandering;  and,  although 
this  flame  lit  them  up  but  imperfectly,  my  eyes 
could  now  discover  their  extent.  I  was  able  to  ex- 
plain to  myself  the  count's  sufferings,  without 
knowing  either  their  depth  or  their  bitterness.  His 
yellow  mask,  his  withered  temples,  his  gigantic 
studies,  his  moments  of  reverie,  the  least  details  of 
the  life  of  this  married  celibate,  took  on  a  luminous 
relief  during  this  hour  of  mental  examination  which 
is  like  the  twilight  of  sleep  and  to  which  any  man 
with  a  heart  would  have  yielded  himself  as  I  did. 
Oh  I  how  I  loved  my  poor  patron  I  he  seemed  to  me 
sublime.  I  read  a  melancholy  poem,  I  perceived  a 
perpetual  action  in  that  heart  which  1  had  accused 
of  inertia.  A  supreme  sorrow,  does  it  not  always 
attain  to  immobility  ?  This  magistrate  who  wielded 
so  much  power,  had  he  avenged  himself?  did  he 
glut  himself  on  a  long  agony?  Is  there  not  such  a 
thing  in  Paris  as  a  wrath  that  boils  for  ten  years? 
What  had  Octave  done  since  this  great  misfortune, 
for  this  separation  of  a  married  couple  is  the  great 


46  HONORINE 

misfortune  in  our  epoch  in  which  the  private  life 
has  become,  what  it  was  not  formerly,  a  social 
question?  We  passed  several  days  in  mutual  ob- 
servation, for  the  great  sufferings  have  their 
modesty;  but  finally,  one  evening,  the  count  said 
to  me  in  a  grave  voice: 

"'Remain!' 

"This  is,  very  nearly,  his  recital: 

"  'My  father  had  a  ward,  rich,  beautiful,  and  six- 
teen years  of  age  at  the  period  of  my  return  from 
college  to  this  old  hotel.  Brought  up  by  my  mother, 
Honorine  was  then  awakening  to  life.  Full  of 
graces  and  of  youthfulness,  she  dreamed  of  happi- 
ness as  she  would  have  dreamed  of  an  ornament, 
and  perhaps  happiness  was  for  her  the  ornament  of 
the  soul  ?  Her  piety  was  not  unaccompanied  by 
slight  joys,  for  everything,  even  religion,  was  a 
poetry  for  this  ingenuous  heart.  She  looked  for- 
ward to  her  future  as  to  a  perpetual  festival.  Inno- 
cent and  pure,  no  frenzy  had  ever  troubled  her 
slumber.  Shame  and  vexation  had  never  marked 
her  cheek  or  made  tearful  her  eyes.  She  did  not 
even  investigate  the  secret  of  her  involuntary  emo- 
tions on  a  fine  day  of  spring.  In  short,  she  felt 
herself  weak,  destined  to  obedience,  and  awaited 
marriage  without  desiring  it.  Her  laughing  imagin- 
ation was  ignorant  of  the  corruption,  perhaps  neces- 
sary, that  literature  inoculates  by  the  portrayal  of 
the  passions;  she  knew  nothing  of  the  world,  and 
was  acquainted  with  none  of  the  dangers  of  society. 
The  dear  child  had  suffered  so  little  that  she  had 


HONORINE  47 

not  even  displayed  her  courage.  Her  candor,  indeed, 
would  have  made  her  walk  without  fear  in  the  midst 
of  serpents,  like  that  ideal  figure  which  a  painter 
has  created,  of  Innocence.  Never  was  there  a  fore- 
head more  serene  and,  at  the  same  time,  more  smil- 
ing than  hers.  Never  was  there  permitted  to  a 
mouth  to  strip  more  completely  of  their  true  mean- 
ing interrogations  stated  with  so  much  ignorance. 
We  lived  together  like  two  brothers.  At  the  ex- 
piration of  a  year  I  said  to  her,  in  the  garden  of  this 
hotel,  before  the  fountain  while  throwing  bread  to 
the  fishes: 

"  '  "Are  you  willing  that  we  should  be  married? 
With  me  you  can  do  whatever  you  wish,  while 
another  man  would  make  you  unhappy." 

"  *  "Mamma,"  she  said  to  my  mother,  who  came 
toward  us,  "it  is  arranged  between  Octave  and  me 
that  we  shall  be  married — " 

"  '  "At  seventeen! — "  replied  my  mother.  "No, 
you  shall  wait  eighteen  months;  and,  if  in  that 
eighteen  months  you  please  each  other,  well,  you 
are  of  equal  birth  and  fortune,  you  shall  make  at 
the  same  time  a  marriage  de  convenance  and  of  mutual 
inclination." 

"  'When  I  was  twenty-six  and  Honorine  was  nine- 
teen, we  were  married.  Our  respect  for  my  father 
and  mother,  old  people  of  the  ancient  Court,  pre- 
vented us  from  arranging  this  hotel  in  modern  style, 
from  changing  the  furniture,  and  we  remained  here, 
as  formerly,  like  children.  Nevertheless,  1  went  out 
into  the  world,  1  initiated  my  wife  into  the  life  of 


48  HONORINE 

society,  and  I  considered  it  as  one  of  my  duties  to 
instruct  her.  I  recognized  later  that  the  marriages 
contracted  under  conditions  similar  to  ours  present 
a  danger  against  which  may  be  broken  many  affec- 
tions, many  prudences,  many  existences.  The 
husband  becomes  a  pedagogue,  a  professor  if  you 
prefer;  and  love  perishes  under  the  ferule  which, 
sooner  or  later,  wounds;  for  a  wife  young  and 
beautiful,  discreet  and  joyous,  will  admit  of  no 
superiorities  above  those  with  which  she  is  endowed 
by  nature.  Perhaps  1  committed  errors?  perhaps  I 
assumed,  in  the  difficult  beginnings  of  a  household, 
a  magistral  tone  ?  Perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  I  com- 
mitted the  fault  of  confiding  absolutely  in  that  can- 
did nature,  and  I  did  not  keep  a  surveillance  over 
the  countess,  whose  rebellion  would  have  seemed 
to  me  impossible?  Alas!  it  is  not  known  yet,  either 
in  politics  or  in  the  household,  whether  empires  and 
happiness  perish  through  too  much  confidence  or 
through  too  much  severity.  Perhaps,  also,  the  hus- 
band did  not  realize  for  Honorine  the  dreams  of  the 
young  girl  ?  Do  we  know,  during  the  days  of  happi- 
ness, in  what  precepts  we  have  failed  ?' 

— "I  only  remember  in  the  bulk  the  reproaches 
which  the  count  addressed  to  himself,  with  the 
directness  of  an  anatomist  searching  for  the  causes 
of  a  malady  which  had  escaped  his  confreres;  but 
his  clement  indulgence  seemed  to  me  at  the  time 
truly  worthy  of  that  of  Jesus  Christ  when  he  saved 
the  woman  taken  in  adultery. — 

"  'Eighteen  months  after  my  father's  death,  he 


HONORINE  49 

preceding  my  mother  by  a  few  months  to  the  tomb,' 
he  resumed  after  a  pause,  'came  the  terrible  night 
when  I  was  surprised  by  Honorine's  letter  of  fare- 
well. By  what  poetry  had  my  wife  been  seduced? 
Was  it  the  senses  ?  was  it  the  magnetism  of  unhap- 
piness  or  of  genius?  which  of  these  forces  was  it 
that  had  surprised  her  or  carried  her  away?  I  have 
wished  to  know  nothing.  The  stroke  was  so  cruel 
that  I  remained,  as  it  were,  stupefied  for  a  month. 
Later,  reflection  advised  me  to  remain  in  my  igno- 
rance, and  the  misfortunes  of  Honorine  have  in- 
structed me  too  much  in  these  things.  Up  to  the 
present,  Maurice,  everything  is  very  commonplace; 
but  everything  is  changed  by  this  word, — I  love 
Honorine,  I  have  not  ceased  to  adore  her !  From  the 
day  of  my  abandonment  I  have  lived  on  my  sou- 
venirs, I  resume,  one  by  one,  the  pleasures  for 
which  doubtless  Honorine  had  no  taste. 

"'Oh!*  he  said,  seeing  the  astonishment  in  my 
eyes,  'do  not  make  of  me  a  hero,  do  not  think  me 
stupid  enough,  as  a  colonel  of  the  Empire  would 
have  said,  not  to  have  sought  for  distractions.  Alas ! 
my  child,  I  was  either  too  young  or  too  much  in 
love; — I  have  not  been  able  to  find  another  woman 
in  the  entire  world.  After  frightful  conflicts  with 
myself  I  sought  to  benumb  myself;  I  went,  money 
in  hand,  as  far  as  the  threshold  of  infidelity;  but 
there  rose  up  before  me,  like  a  white  statue,  the 
memory  of  Honorine.  In  recalling  the  infinite  deli- 
cacy of  that  smooth  skin  through  which  could  be  seen 
the  blood  circulating  and  the  nerves  palpitating;  in 
4 


50  HONORINE 

seeing  again  that  ingenuous  head,  as  naive  the  even- 
ing before  my  misfortune  as  on  the  day  on  which 
I  said  to  her,— "Are  you  willing  that  we  should  be 
married  ?"  in  remembering  a  perfume  as  heavenly  as 
that  of  virtue;  in  seeing   again  the   light   of  her 
glance,  the  prettiness  of  her  gestures,  I  fled  like  a 
man  who  had  gone  to  violate  a  tomb  and  who  had 
seen  issue  from  it  the  transfigured  soul  of  the  dead. 
At  the  council,  at  the  Palais,  at  night,  I  dream  so 
constantly  of   Honorine,  that  it  requires  of  me  an 
excessive  strength  of  soul  to  recall  myself  to  what  I 
am  doing,  to  what  I  am  saying.     This  is  the  secret 
of  my  labors.     Well,  I  feel  no  more  anger  toward 
her  than  a  father  would  have  in  seeing  his  dear  child 
in  a  danger   into  which   it  had  fallen  through  im- 
prudence.    I  have  comprehended  that  I  had  made  of 
my  wife  a  poem  which  I  enjoyed  with  so  much  intox- 
ication that  I  believed  my  intoxication  shared.   Ah! 
Maurice,  a  love  without  discretion  is,  on  the  part  of 
a  husband,  a  fault  which  may  prepare  the  way  for 
all  the  crimes  of  a  wife !     1  had  probably  left  without 
employment  the  powers  of  this  child,  cherished  like 
a  child;  I  had  perhaps  wearied  her  with  my  love 
before  the  hour  of  love  had  arrived  for  her.     Too 
young  to  foresee  the  devotion  of  the  mother  in  the 
constancy  of  the  wife,  she  had  taken  this  first  trial 
of  marriage  for  life  itself,  and  the  pouting  child  had 
rebelled  against  life  unknown  tome,  not  daring  to 
complain  to  me,  through  modesty  perhaps !     In  so 
cruel  a  situation  she  found  herself  defenceless  against 
a  man  who  had  violently  agitated  her.     And  I,  this 


HONORINE  51 

SO  sagacious  magistrate,  as  I  was  called,  I  whose 
heart  is  good  but  whose  mind  was  occupied,  I  had 
divined  too  late  these  laws  of  the  unacknowledged 
feminine  code,  1  had  read  them  in  the  light  of  the 
conflagration  which  consumed  the  roof  over  my 
head.  Then  I  constituted  in  my  heart  a  tribunal, 
according  to  the  law;  for  the  law  makes  of  the  hus- 
band a  judge; — I  acquitted  my  wife  and  I  con- 
demned myself.  But  love  then  took  on  within  me 
the  form  of  passion,  of  that  mean  and  arbitrary  pas- 
sion which  takes  possession  of  certain  old  men. 
To-day,  I  love  Honorine  absent  as  one  loves,  at 
threescore,  a  woman  who  must  be  had  at  any  price, 
and  I  feel  within  me  the  strength  of  a  young  man. 
I  have  the  audacity  of  the  old  and  the  restraint  of 
the  adolescent  My  friend,  society  has  nothing 
but  mockery  for  this  frightful  conjugal  situation. 
Where  it  would  be  pitiful  for  a  lover,  it  sees  in  the 
husband  I  know  not  what  impotence;  it  laughs  at 
those  who  do  not  know  how  to  keep  a  wife  whom 
they  have  acquired  under  the  canopy  of  the  Church 
and  before  the  scarf  of  the  mayor.  And  I  have  been 
obliged  to  keep  silent!  Serizy  is  happy.  He  owes 
to  her  indulgence  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  wife,  he 
protects  her,  he  defends  her ;  and,  as  he  adores  her,  he 
knows  the  excessive  pleasures  of  the  benefactor  who 
is  not  worried  about  anything,  not  even  about  ridi- 
cule, for  he  baptizes  with  it  his  paternal  pleasures. 

"  '  "I  remain  married  only  because  of  my  wife!" 
said  Serizy  to  me  one  day  as  we  came  out  of  the 
council. 


52  HONORINE 

"'But  1! — 1  have  nothing,  not  even  ridicule  to 
affront,  I  who  sustain  myself  only  by  a  love  with 
nothing  to  feed  on !  1  who  have  not  a  word  to  say  to 
a  woman  of  the  social  world !  1  who  am  repelled  by 
prostitution!  I,  faithful  through  incantation!  Had 
it  not  been  for  my  religious  faith,  1  should  have 
killed  myself.  I  have  challenged  the  abyss  of  work, 
I  have  plunged  into  it,  I  have  issued  from  it  alive, 
burning,  ardent,  having  lost  the  power  of  sleep! — ' 

" — I  cannot  recall  to  myself  the  words  of  this 
man  so  eloquent,  and  to  whom  passion  gave  an  elo- 
quence so  superior  to  that  of  the  tribune  that,  like 
himself,  my  cheeks  were  furrowed  by  tears  as  I 
listened  to  him !  You  may  judge  of  my  impressions 
when,  after  a  pause  during  which  we  dried  our 
eyes,  he  finished  his  recital  by  this  revelation : — 

"  'This  is  the  drama  in  my  soul,  but  it  is  not  the 
outward  drama  which  is  being  played  at  this 
moment  in  Paris!  The  inward  drama  interests  no 
one.  I  am  aware  of  it,  and  you  will  recognize  it 
one  day,  you  who  weep  at  this  moment  with  me; — 
no  one  piles  up  on  his  heart  or  on  his  epidermis, 
another's  sorrow.  The  measure  of  all  sorrows  is 
within  us.  You,  yourself,  you  comprehend  my  suf' 
ferings  only  by  a  very  vague  analogy.  Are  you 
able  to  see  me  calming  the  most  violent  rage  cf 
despair  by  the  contemplation  of  a  miniature  in 
which  my  eyes  find  again  her  forehead  to  kiss  it, 
the  smile  of  her  lips,  the  outline  of  her  visage,  where 
I  can  inhale  the  purity  of  her  skin,  and  which  per- 
mits me  almost  to  feel,  to  handle,  the  black  clusters 


HONORINE  53 

of  her  curling  hair?  Have  you  ever  surprised 
me  when  I  leaped  for  hope,  when  1  writhed  under 
the  thousand  shafts  of  despair,  when  I  walked 
through  the  mud  of  Paris  in  order  to  overcome  my 
impatience  by  fatigue?  I  have  periods  of  enerva- 
tion comparable  to  those  of  consumptives,  of  hilarity 
like  a  madman,  of  the  apprehension  of  an  assassin 
when  he  encounters  a  brigadier  of  gendarmes.  In 
short,  my  life  is  a  continual  paroxysm  of  terrors,  of 
joys,  of  despairs.  As  to  the  drama,  this  is  it: — You 
believe  me  occupied  with  the  council  of  State,  with 
the  Chamber,  with  the  Palais,  with  political  affairs! 
— Eh!  Mon  Dieu,  seven  hours  of  the  night  suffice 
for  all,  so  much  has  the  life  I  lead  over-excited  my 
faculties.  Honorine  is  my  great  occupation.  To 
reconquer  my  wife,  that  is  my  sole  study ;  to  watch 
her  in  the  cage  in  which  she  is  without  her  being 
aware  of  my  power ;  to  satisfy  her  needs,  to  super- 
vise the  little  pleasure  which  she  permits  herself,  to 
be  ceaselessly  near  her,  like  a  sylph,  without  allow- 
ing myself  to  be  either  seen  or  suspected,  for  then 
all  my  future  would  be  lost,  this  is  my  life,  my  real 
life!  For  the  last  seven  years  1  have  never  slept 
without  going  to  see  the  light  of  her  night-lamp,  or 
her  shadow  on  the  window  curtain.  She  left  my 
house  without  wishing  to  take  away  with  her  any- 
thing but  the  garments  she  was  wearing  on  that 
day.  The  child  carried  her  nobility  of  sentiments 
to  the  point  of  stupidity!  Moreover,  eighteen 
months  after  her  flight  she  was  abandoned  by  her 
lover,  who  was  terrified  by  the  bitter  and  cold,  the 


54  HONORINE 

sinister  and  infectious  aspect  of  poverty,  the  coward ! 
This  man  had  doubtless  counted  upon  the  happy  and 
gilded  existence  in  Switzerland  and  in  Italy,  which 
the  great  ladies  permit  themselves  after  leaving 
their  husbands.  Honorine  had  in  her  own  right 
sixty  thousand  francs  of  income.  This  wretch  left 
the  dear  creature  enceinte  and  without  a  sou!  In 
1820,  in  the  month  of  November,  I  succeeded  in 
getting  the  best  obstetrician  in  Paris  to  assume  the 
role  of  a  little  surgeon  of  the  faubourg.  I  persuaded 
the  cure  of  the  quarter  in  which  the  countess  lived 
to  relieve  her  needs  as  if  he  were  accomplishing  a 
work  of  charity.  To  conceal  my  wife's  name,  to 
assure  her  her  incognito,  to  find  her  a  housekeeper 
who  was  devoted  to  me  and  who  would  be  an  intel- 
ligent confidante — bah!  this  was  an  undertaking 
worthy  of  Figaro.  You  understand  that  to  discover 
my  wife's  asylum,  it  was  sufficient  for  me  to  wish 
it.  After  three  months  of  hopelessness  rather  than 
of  despair,  the  thought  of  consecrating  myself  to 
Honorine's  happiness,  in  taking  God  for  a  witness 
of  my  conduct,  was  one  of  those  poems  which  fall 
only  on  a  lover's  heart  whatever  happens!  All  ab- 
solute love  wishes  something  to  feed  upon.  Ah! 
should  I  not  protect  this  child,  culpable  through  my 
imprudence  only,  against  new  disasters;  accom- 
plish, in  short,  my  role  of  guardian  angel  ?  After 
seven  months  of  nursing,  the  infant  son  died,  hap- 
pily for  her  and  for  me.  My  wife  lay  for  nine 
months  between  life  and  death,  abandoned  at  the 
moment  when  she  had  the  greatest  need  of  a  man's 


HONORINE  55 

arm,  but  this  arm,'  he  said,  extending  his  own  with 
a  movement  of  angelic  energy,  'was  stretched  over 
her  head.  Honorine  was  cared  for  as  if  she  had 
been  in  her  own  hotel.  When,  restored  to  health, 
she  asked  how,  by  whom,  she  had  been  succored, 
she  was  answered, — "The  Sisters  of  Charity  of  the 
quarter, — The  Maternity  Society, — the  cure  of  the 
parish  who  was  interested  in  her."  This  woman, 
in  whom  pride  goes  to  the  extent  of  becoming  a  vice, 
has  displayed  in  unhappiness  a  strength  of  resist- 
ance which,  on  certain  evenings,  I  designate  as  the 
obstinacy  of  a  mule.  Honorine  wished  to  earn  her 
own  living!  my  wife  work! — For  the  last  five  years 
I  have  kept  her  in  a  charming  pavilion  in  the  Rue 
Saint-Maur,  where  she  makes  flowers  and  milli- 
nery. She  believes  she  sells  the  products  of  her 
elegant  handiwork  to  a  merchant,  who  pays  her  for 
them  at  such  a  rate  that  she  makes  twenty  francs 
a  day,  and  for  six  years  she  has  not  had  a  single 
suspicion.  She  pays  for  all  her  daily  needs  nearly 
the  third  of  what  they  are  worth,  so  that  with  six 
thousand  francs  a  year  she  lives  as  though  she  had 
fifteen  thousand  francs.  She  has  a  taste  for  flowers, 
and  gives  a  hundred  ecus  to  a  gardener  who  costs 
me,  myself,  twelve  hundred  francs  in  wages,  and 
who  sends  me  statements  of  two  thousand  francs 
every  three  months.  I  have  promised  to  this  man 
a  kitchen  garden  and  the  house  with  it  adjoining 
the  lodge  of  the  concierge  of  the  Rue  Saint-Maur. 
This  property  belongs  to  me  under  the  name  of  a 
register's  clerk  of  the  court.     A  single  indiscretion 


56  HONORINE 

would  make  the  gardener  lose  everything.  Hono- 
rinehas  her  pavilion,  a  garden,  a  superb  hothouse, 
for  five  hundred  francs  of  rent  a  year.  She  lives 
there,  under  the  name  of  her  housekeeper  Ma- 
dame Gobain,  this  old  woman  of  a  discretion  proof 
against  anything,  whom  I  found,  and  by  whom  she 
has  made  herself  loved.  But  this  zeal  is,  like  that 
of  the  gardener,  sustained  by  the  promise  of  a 
recompense  on  the  day  of  success.  The  concierge 
and  his  wife  cost  me  horribly  dear,  for  the  same 
reasons.  In  short,  for  the  last  three  years  Hon- 
orine  has  been  happy,  she  thinks  she  owes  to  her 
labor  the  luxury  of  her  flowers,  her  toilet  and  her 
comforts. 

"  'Oh ! — I  know  what  you  wish  to  say,'  cried  the 
count,  seeing  an  interrogation  in  my  eyes  and  on  my 
lips.  'Yes,  yes,  I  made  an  attempt.  My  wife  lived 
previously  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine.  One 
day  when,  on  the  word  of  the  Gobain,  I  believed  in 
the  chances  of  a  reconciliation,  I  sent,  by  the  post, 
a  letter  in  which  I  endeavored  to  persuade  my  wife, 
a  letter  written,  recommenced  twenty  times !  I  will 
not  describe  to  you  my  anguish.  I  went  from  the 
Rue  Payenne  to  the  Rue  de  Reuilly,  like  a  con- 
demned man  who  proceeds  from  the  Palais  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville;  but  he  is  in  a  cart,  and  I,  I  walked! 
— It  was  night,  there  was  a  fog.  I  went  to  meet  Ma- 
dame Gobain  who  was  to  come  to  tell  me  what  my 
wife  had  done.  Honorine,  on  recognizing  my  hand- 
writing, had  thrown  the  letter  in  the  fire  without 
reading  it. 


HONORINE  57 

•• '  "Madame  Gobain,"  she  said,  "1  shall  not  be 
in  to  any  one  to-morrow! — " 

"  'Was  this  a  dagger-stroke,  this  speech,  for  a 
man  who  finds  unlimited  joys  in  the  deception  by 
means  of  which  he  procures  the  finest  velvet  of 
Lyons  at  twelve  francs  a  yard,  a  pheasant,  a  fish, 
fruits  at  a  tenth  of  their  value,  for  a  woman  igno- 
rant enough  to  believe  that  she  is  paying  sufficiently, 
with  two  hundred  and  fifty  francs,  Madame  Gobain, 
the  cook  of  a  bishop?— You  have  surprised  me  at 
times  rubbing  my  hands  and  a  prey  to  a  kind  of 
happiness.  Well,  this  has  been  when  I  have  just 
succeeded  in  carrying  out  a  trick  worthy  of  the 
theatre; — I  had  deceived  my  wife  by  sending  her  by 
a  female  dealer  in  toilet  articles  an  Indian  shawl, 
offered  to  her  as  coming  from  an  actress  who  had 
scarcely  worn  it,  but  in  which  I,  the  grave  magis- 
trate whom  you  know,  I  had  slept  for  one  night!  In 
short,  to-day,  my  life  is  summed  up  in  the  two 
words  in  which  can  be  expressed  the  most  violent 
of  torments : — I  love  and  I  wait !  I  have  in  Madame 
Gobain  a  faithful  spy  upon  the  adored  heart.  I  go 
every  night  to  talk  with  this  old  woman,  to  learn 
from  her  everything  that  Honorine  has  done  during 
the  day,  the  lightest  words  which  she  has  spoken,  for 
a  single  exclamation  might  deliver  to  me  the  secrets 
of  this  soul  which  has  made  itself  deaf  and  mute. 
Honorine  is  pious;  she  attends  the  services,  she 
prays;  but  she  has  never  gone  to  confession  and 
does  not  take  the  communion ; — she  knows  what  a 
priest  would  say  to  her.     She  does  not  wish  to  hear 


58  HONORINE 

the  advice,  the  order,  to  return  to  me.  This  horror 
of  myself  terrifies  me  and  confounds  me,  for  I  never 
did  the  least  injury  to  Honorine ;  I  have  always  been 
good  to  her.  If  we  admit  that  1  was  sometimes 
quick  in  instructing  her,  that  my  man's  irony 
wounded  her  legitimate  pride  of  a  young  girl, — is 
that  a  reason  for  persevering  in  a  resolution  which 
the  most  implacable  hatred  alone  could  inspire? 
Honorine  has  never  revealed  her  identity  to  Ma- 
dame Gobain,  she  preserves  an  absolute  silence 
concerning  her  marriage,  so  that  this  honest  and 
worthy  woman  cannot  say  a  word  in  my  favor,  for 
she  is  the  only  one  in  the  household  who  has  my 
secret.  The  others  know  nothing;  they  live  under 
the  terror  which  the  name  of  the  prefect  of  police  in- 
spires and  in  veneration  of  the  power  of  a  minister. 
It  is  then  impossible  for  me  to  penetrate  into  this 
heart;  the  citadel  is  mine,  but  I  cannot  enter.  I 
have  not  a  single  means  of  action.  Any  violence 
would  ruin  me  for  ever.  How  to  combat  reasons  of 
which  you  are  ignorant.?  To  write  a  letter,  to  have 
it  copied  by  a  public  writer,  and  place  it  under  the 
eyes  of  Honorine  ? — I  have  thought  of  it.  But  would 
that  not  be  to  risk  a  third  breaking-up.!*  The  last 
one  cost  me  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs. 
This  purchase  was  at  first  made  in  the  name  of 
the  secretary  whom  you  replaced.  The  wretch, 
who  did  not  know  how  lightly  I  slept,  was  surprised 
by  me  opening  with  a  false  key  the  chest  in  which 
I  had  placed  the  counter-deed;  I  coughed,  he  be- 
came frightened;  the  next  day  I  forced  him  to  sell 


HONORINE  59 

the  house  to  my  actual  borrowed  name,  and  1  put 
him  out  the  door.  Ah!  if  I  did  not  feel  within  me 
all  the  noble  faculties  of  man  satisfied,  happy,  ex- 
panded; if  the  qualities  of  my  role  did  not  pertain 
to  those  of  the  divine  paternity,  if  I  did  not  enjoy 
through  every  pore,  there  would  be  moments  in 
which  I  would  believe  myself  the  victim  of  some 
monomania.  There  are  nights  in  which  I  hear  the 
tinkling  of  Folly's  bells,  I  am  afraid  of  these  violent 
transitions  from  a  feeble  hope,  which  sometimes 
blazes  up  and  shoots  out,  to  a  complete  despair  which 
falls  as  far  as  a  man  can  fall.  1  meditated  seriously, 
a  few  days  ago,  on  the  atrocious  denouement  of 
Lovelace  with  Clarissa,  saying  to  myself: 

"  '  "If  Honorine  had  a  child  by  me,  would  it  not 
be  necessary  for  her  to  return  to  the  conjugal  roof?" 

"  'Finally,  I  have  such  faith  in  a  happy  future 
that,  ten  months  ago,  1  acquired  and  paid  for  one 
of  the  handsomest  hotels  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Honore.  If  I  reconquer  Honorine,  I  do  not  wish  her 
to  see  this  hotel  again,  or  the  chamber  from  which 
she  fled.  I  wish  to  put  my  idol  in  a  new  temple 
where  she  may  believe  in  a  life  entirely  new.  I  am 
having  made  of  this  hotel  a  marvel  of  taste  and  of 
elegance.  I  have  heard  of  a  poet  who,  almost  mad 
with  love  for  a  cantatrice,  had,  at  the  beginning  of 
his  passion,  purchased  the  most  beautiful  bed  in 
Paris,  without  knowing  the  ending  which  the  actress 
reserved  for  his  passion.  Well,  there  is  the  coldest 
of  magistrates,  a  man  who  is  thought  to  be  the 
gravest  counselor  of  the  Crown,  all  the  fibres  of 


6o  HONORINE 

whose  heart  were  stirred  by  this  anecdote.  The 
orator  of  the  Chamber  comprehended  this  poet  who 
fed  his  ideal  on  a  material  possibility.  Three  days 
before  the  arrival  of  Marie-Louise,  Napoleon  rolled 
himself  in  her  nuptial  bed  at  Compi^gne — All 
gigantic  passions  have  the  same  features.  I  love 
like  a  poet  and  an  emperor! — ' 

"When  I  heard  these  last  words  I  believed  in  the 
reality  of  Comte  Octave's  fears:  he  rose,  walked 
about,  gesticulated,  but  he  stopped  as  though  fright- 
ened by  the  violence  of  words. 

"  'I  am  very  ridiculous,'  he  resumed,  after  a  very 
long  pause,  seeking  for  a  look  of  compassion. 

'*  'No,  monsieur,  you  are  very  unhappy — ' 

"'Oh!  yes,'  he  said,  resuming  the  flow  of  his 
confidences,  'more  than  you  think!  From  the  vio- 
lence of  my  words  you  might,  and  indeed  you  prob- 
ably do,  believe  it  to  be  a  case  of  the  most  intense 
physical  passion,  since  for  the  last  nine  years  it  has 
annulled  all  my  faculties;  but  this  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  adoration  which  is  inspired  in 
me  by  the  soul,  the  intelligence,  the  manners,  the 
heart,  all  that  which  in  the  woman  is  not  the 
woman;  in  short,  those  ravishing  divinities  in  the 
train  of  Love  with  whom  life  is  passed,  and  who  are 
the  daily  poetry  of  a  fugitive  pleasure.  I  can  see, 
through  a  retrospective  phenomenon,  those  graces  of 
the  heart  and  of  the  spirit  of  Honorine  to  which  I 
gave  but  little  attention  in  the  days  of  my  happi- 
ness, like  all  happy  people!  I  have,  from  day  to 
day,  recognized  the  extent  of  my  loss  in  recognizing 


HONORINE  6l 

the  divine  qualities  with  which  was  endowed  this 
capricious  and  unruly  child,  who  has  become  so 
strong  and  so  proud  under  the  heavy  hand  of  pov- 
erty, under  the  blow  of  the  most  cowardly  abandon- 
ment. And  this  celestial  flower  is  withering 
solitary  and  hidden!  Ah!  the  law  of  which  we 
were  speaking,'  he  resumed  with  a  bitter  irony, 
'the  law,  it  is  a  picket  of  gendarmes,  it  is  my  wife 
seized  and  brought  here  by  force! — Would  that  not 
be  to  conquer  a  dead  body?  Religion  has  had  no 
hold  upon  her,  she  wished  for  some  poetry  in  her 
life,  she  prays  without  listening  to  the  command- 
ments of  the  Church.  For  myself,  I  have  exhausted 
everything  in  the  way  of  clemency,  kindness,  love. 
— I  have  come  to  the  end.  There  remains  only  one 
method  of  succeeding; — ^the  shrewdness  and  the 
patience  with  which  the  bird-catchers  finally  trap 
the  most  suspicious,  the  most  active,  the  most  fan- 
tastic and  the  rarest  birds.  Thus,  Maurice,  when 
the  very  excusable  indiscretion  of  Monsieur  de 
Granville  revealed  to  you  the  secret  of  my  life,  I 
finally  came  to  see  in  this  incident  one  of  those 
commands  of  fate,  one  of  those  notifications  which 
the  gamblers  ardently  desire  and  to  which  they 
listen  in  the  midst  of  their  most  furious  games — 
Have  you  enough  affection  for  me  to  be  romantically 
devoted  to  me  ? — ' 

"  'I  anticipate  you.  Monsieur  le  Comte,'  1  replied, 
interrupting  him,  M  divine  your  intentions.  Your 
first  secretary  wished  to  pick  the  lock  of  your  strong- 
box ;  I  know  the  heart  of  the  second,  he  is  capable 


62  HONORINE 

of  loving  your  wife.  And  can  you  devote  him  to 
misfortune  by  sending  him  to  the  fire?  To  put 
his  hand  in  a  brasier  without  burning  it,  is  that 
possible?' 

"  'You  are  a  child,'  replied  the  count,  'I  will  send 
you  gloved!  It  is  not  my  secretary  who  will  come 
to  take  up  his  lodging  in  the  Rue  Saint-Maur,  in  the 
little  house  of  the  kitchen  gardener  which  1  have 
caused  to  be  vacated,  it  will  be  my  young  cousin, 
the  Baron  de  I'Hostal,  referendary — ' 

"After  a  moment  of  surprise  I  heard  the  stroke  of 
a  bell  and  a  carriage  rolled  up  to  the  perron.  Pres- 
ently the  valet  de  chambre  announced  Madame  de 
Courteville  and  her  daughter.  Comte  Octave  had 
very  many  relatives  on  his  mother's  side.  Madame 
de  Courteville,  his  cousin,  was  the  widow  of  a  judge 
of  the  tribunal  of  the  Seine,  who  had  left  her  with 
a  daughter  and  without  any  fortune  whatever.  How 
could  a  woman  of  twenty-nine  compare  with  a 
young  girl  of  twenty,  as  beautiful  as  the  imagina- 
tion could  desire  for  an  ideal  mistress? 

"  'Baron,  referendary,  keeper  of  the  seals,  while 
waiting  for  something  better,  and  this  old  hotel  for 
a  dot,  will  you  have  reasons  enough  for  not  loving 
the  countess  ?'  he  said  in  my  ear  as  he  took  me  by 
the  hand  and  presented  me  to  Madame  de  Courte- 
ville and  her  daughter. 

"1  was  dazzled,  not  by  so  many  advantages  which 
I  had  never  dared  to  dream  of,  but  by  Amelie  de 
Courteville,  all  whose  beauties  were  set  off  by  one 
of  those  brilliant  toilets  which  the  mothers  give 


HONORINE  63 

their  daughters  when  it  is  a  question  of  marrying 
them. 

"We  will  not  speak  of  myself,"  said  the  consul, 
making  a  pause; — 

"Twenty  days  later,"  he  resumed,  "I  went  to 
live  in  the  house  of  the  kitchen  gardener,  which 
had  been  cleaned,  arranged  and  furnished  with  that 
celerity  which  is  explained  by  three  words, — 
Paris!  the  French  workman  !  money!  I  was  as  much 
in  love  as  the  count  could  desire  for  his  own  secur- 
ity. Would  the  prudence  of  a  young  man  of 
twenty-five  suffice  for  the  stratagems  which  I  had 
undertaken  and  in  which  was  involved  the  happi- 
ness of  a  friend?  To  resolve  this  question,  I  admit 
to  you  that  I  counted  a  good  deal  on  my  uncle,  for  I 
was  authorized  by  the  count  to  take  him  into  my 
confidence  in  case  I  should  deem  his  intervention 
necessary.  I  took  a  gardener,  I  made  myself  a  most 
zealous  florist,  I  occupied  myself  furiously,  like  a 
man  who  could  be  distracted  by  nothing,  in  digging 
up  the  kitchen  garden  and  preparing  the  soil  for  the 
cultivation  of  flowers.  After  the  manner  of  the 
maniacs  of  Holland  or  of  England,  I  gave  myself  out 
for  a  monoflorist.  I  cultivated  dahlias  especially, 
bringing  together  all  the  known  varieties.  You  will 
understand  that  my  line  of  conduct,  even  in  its 
slightest  deviations,  was  traced  by  the  count,  all 
whose  intellectual  qualities  were  then  attentive  to 
the  last  events  of  the  tragic  comedy  which  was  about 
to  be  played  in  the  Rue  Saint-Maur.  As  soon  as 
the  countess    had   retired,   almost  every  evening, 


64  HONORINE 

between  eleven  o'clock  and  midnight,  a  council  was 
held  between  Octave,  Madame  Gobain  and  myself. 
I  heard  the  old  woman  rendering  an  account  to  Oc- 
tave of  the  least  movements  of  his  wife  during  the 
day;  he  informed  himself  of  everything,  the  meals, 
the  occupations,  the  conduct,  the  menu  for  the  next 
day,  the  flowers  which  she  proposed  to  imitate.  I 
comprehended  that  this  was  a  love  to  the  point  of 
despair,  since  it  was  composed  of  that  triple  love 
which  proceeds  from  the  head,  the  heart  and  the 
senses.  Octave  lived  only  during  this  hour.  Dur- 
ing the  two  months  that  the  work  lasted,  I  did  not 
turn  my  eyes  on  the  pavilion  in  which  my  neigh- 
bors lived.  I  had  not  even  asked  if  I  had  a  neigh- 
bor, although  the  garden  of  the  countess  was 
separated  from  mine  only  by  a  paling  fence,  along 
which  she  had  caused  to  be  planted  cypress,  already 
four  feet  high.  One  fine  morning,  Madame  Gobain 
announced  to  her  mistress,  as  a  great  misfortune, 
the  intention  of  some  original  character  who  had 
become  her  neighbor,  of  building,  toward  the  end  of 
the  year,  a  wall  between  the  two  gardens.  I  will 
not  speak  to  you  of  the  curiosity  by  which  I  was 
devoured.  To  see  the  countess! — this  desire  paled 
even  my  budding  love  for  Amelie  de  Courteville. 
My  project  of  building  the  wall  was  a  frightfu) 
menace.  No  more  air  for  Honorine,  whose  garden 
would  become  a  species  of  alley  enclosed  between 
my  wall  and  her  pavilion.  This  pavilion,  formerly 
a  pleasure  house,  resembled  a  chateau  of  cards,  it 
was  only  about  thirty  feet  in  depth  with  a  front  of 


HONORINE  65 

about  a  hundred.  The  facade,  painted  in  the  Ger- 
man fashion,  imitated  a  trellis  of  flowers  to  the 
height  of  the  first  story,  and  presented  a  charming 
specimen  of  that  Pompadour  style  which  is  so  well 
named  rococo.  It  was  reached  through  a  long  avenue 
of  linden  trees.  The  garden  of  the  pavilion  and  my 
kitchen  garden  resembled  the  blade  of  a  hatchet, 
the  handle  of  which  was  represented  by  the  avenue. 
My  wall  would  cut  off  three-quarters  of  the  hatchet. 
The  countess  was  heartbroken  over  it,  and  said, 
in  the  midst  of  her  despair: 

"  'My  poor  Gobain,  what  sort  of  a  man  is  this 
florist?' 

"'Upon  my  word,' she  replied,  'I  do  not  know 
that  it  is  possible  to  do  anything  with  him,  he  seems 
to  hold  all  women  in  horror.  He  is  the  nephew  of  a 
cure  in  Paris.  I  have  only  seen  the  uncle  once,  a 
fine  old  man  of  seventy-five,  very  ugly  but  very 
gentle  and  kind.  It  may  well  be  that  this  cure  en- 
courages his  nephew,  as  is  said  in  the  quarter,  in 
his  passion  for  flowers  so  that  he  may  not  do  worse — ' 

"'But  what?' 

"  'Well,  your  neighbor  is  a  harebrained  fellow! — ' 
said  the  Gobain,  pointing  to  her  own  head. 

"The  quiet  fools  are  the  only  men  of  whom  women 
have  no  mistrust  in  matters  of  sentiment.  You 
will  perceive  in  the  end  how  clearly  the  count  had 
seen  in  choosing  this  role  for  me. 

"  'But  what  is  the  matter  with  him?'  asked  the 
countess. 

" 'He  has  over-studied,'  replied  the  Gobain,  'he 
5 


66  HONORINE 

has  become  wild.  Finally,  he  has  his  reasons  for 
not  loving  women  any  more — there,  since  you  wish 
to  know  all  that  is  said.' 

"  'Well,'  replied  Honorine,  'crazy  people  frighten 
me  less  than  sensible  ones,  I  will  speak  to  him  my- 
self !  Say  to  him  that  I  ask  him  to  come  and  see  me. 
If  I  do  not  succeed  with  him,  I  will  see  the  cure.' 

"The  morning  after  this  conversation,  as  I  was 
walking  in  my  laid-out  garden  paths,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  curtains  of  a  window  on  the  first 
floor  of  the  pavilion  drawn  aside  and  of  the  face  of 
a  woman  looking  out  curiously.  The  Gobain  ac- 
costed me.  I  glanced  brusquely  at  the  pavilion  and 
made  a  brutal  gesture,  as  though  I  said, — 'Well,  it 
is  but  little  I  care  for  your  mistress!' 

"  'Madame,'  said  the  Gobain,  returning  to  render 
an  account  of  her  embassy,  'the  crazy  fellow  asked 
me  to  leave  him  alone,  saying  that  every  man  was 
master  in  his  own  house,  especially  when  he  has  no 
wife.' 

"  'He  is  doubly  right,'  replied  the  countess. 

"  'Yes,  but  he  ended  by  saying  to  me, — 'I  will 
go!'  when  I  told  him  that  he  would  make  very  un- 
happy a  person  who  lived  a  retired  life,  and  who 
found  great  diversion  in  the  culture  of  flowers.' 

"The  next  morning  I  was  aware  by  a  sign  from 
the  Gobain  that  my  visit  was  expected.  After  the 
countess's  dejeuner,  as  she  was  walking  in  her  pa- 
vilion, 1  broke  through  the  palings  and  went  to  her. 
I  had  arrayed  myself  like  a  countryman; — old  pan- 
taloons with  feet,  of  gray  swanskin,  heavy  sabots, 


HONORINE  67 

an  old  hunting  vest,  a  cap  on  my  head,  a  cheap 
handkerchief  around  my  neck,  my  hands  soiled 
with  earth  and  a  gardener's  trowel  in  my  hand. 

"  'Madame,  this  is  the  monsieur  who  is  your 
neighbor!'  cried  the  Gobain. 

"The  countess  was  not  frightened.  I  finally  saw 
that  woman  whom  her  own  conduct  and  the  count's 
confidences  had  rendered  such  an  object  of  curiosity. 
We  were  then  in  the  first  days  of  the  month  of  May. 
The  pure  air,  the  blue  sky,  the  greenness  of  the  first 
leaves,  the  scent  of  the  spring,  made  a  frame  for  this 
creation  of  sorrow.  When  I  saw  Honorine,  I  com- 
prehended the  passion  of  Octave  and  the  truthful- 
ness of  that  observation,  a  celestial  flower !  Her 
whiteness  struck  me  at  first  by  its  peculiarity,  for 
there  are  as  many  whites  as  there  are  blues  and  reds. 
In  looking  at  the  countess,  the  eye  served  to  touch 
that  smooth  skin  in  which  the  blood  flowed  through 
bluish  threads.  At  the  slightest  emotion,  this  blood 
spread  itself  out  under  the  tissues  like  a  vapor  in 
rosy  sheets.  As  we  met,  the  rays  of  the  sun,  pass- 
ing through  the  thin  foliage  of  the  acacias,  sur- 
rounded Honorine  with  that  yellow  and  liquid 
nimbus  which  Raphael  and  Titian,  alone  among 
painters,  have  represented  surrounding  the  Virgin. 
Her  brown  eyes  expressed  at  once  tenderness  and 
gaiety;  their  light  was  reflected  on  her  countenance 
through  the  long,  lowered  lashes.  With  the  move- 
ment of  these  silky  lashes  Honorine  threw  a  charm 
upon  you,  so  much  was  there  of  feeling,  of  majesty, 
of  terror,  of  scorn,   in   her   manner  of  raising  or 


68  HONORINE 

lowering  this  veil  of  her  soul.  She  could  freeze  you 
or  animate  you  by  a  glance.  Her  hair  of  a  pale 
brown,  was  gathered  up  negligently  upon  her  head 
and  outlined  a  forehead  like  a  poet's,  large,  power- 
ful, dreamy.  The  mouth  was  entirely  voluptuous. 
Finally,  as  a  great  privilege,  rare  in  France  but 
common  in  Italy,  all  the  lines,  the  contours  of  this 
head,  had  a  character  of  nobility  which  would  be 
able  to  arrest  the  ravages  of  time.  Although  slen- 
der, Honorine  was  not  thin,  and  her  outlines  seemed 
to  me  to  be  those  which  would  awaken  love  again 
when  it  thought  itself  extinguished.  She  was 
well  entitled  to  the  appellation  of  mignonne,  for  she 
belonged  to  that  species  of  little,  supple  women 
who  allow  themselves  to  be  taken,  flattered,  aban- 
doned and  taken  up  again  like  cats.  Her  little  feet, 
which  1  heard  on  the  gravel,  made  upon  it  a  slight 
noise  which  was  in  keeping  with  them  and  which 
harmonized  with  the  rustling  of  her  dress;  there 
resulted  a  species  of  feminine  music  which  en- 
graved itself  on  the  heart  and  which  would  have 
distinguished  her  walk  among  a  thousand  other 
women.  Her  carriage  re.alled  all  her  quarterings 
of  nobility  with  so  much  haughtiness  that  in  the 
streets  the  most  audacious  of  the  proletariat  would 
have  stood  aside  for  her.  Mirthful  and  tender, 
proud  and  imposing,  she  could  not  be  comprehended 
otherwise  than  as  endowed  with  these  qualities 
which  seem  to  exclude  each  other,  and  which  never- 
theless left  her  a  child.  But  the  child  might  become 
as  strong  as  an  angel;  and,  like  the  angel,  once 


HONORINE  69 

wounded  in  her  true  nature,  she  would  be  impla- 
cable. The  coldness  on  this  visage  was  doubtless 
no  less  than  death  for  those  on  whom  her  eyes  had 
smiled,  for  whom  her  lips  had  opened,  for  those 
whose  souls  had  welcomed  the  melody  of  this  voice 
which  gave  to  words  the  poetry  of  song  by  peculiar 
accentuations.  When  I  scented  the  violet  perfume 
which  she  exhaled,  I  understood  how  the  memory  of 
this  woman  had  arrested  the  count  on  the  threshold 
of  debauchery,  and  how  impossible  it  would  be  to 
ever  forget  her  who  was  truly  a  flower  to  the  touch, 
a  flower  to  look  at,  a  flower  by  scent,  and  a  celes- 
tial flower  for  the  soul. — Honorine  inspired  devotion, 
a  devotion  chivalric  and  without  recompense.  You 
said  to  yourself  on  seeing  her,  'Think,  and  1  will 
divine  your  thoughts;  speak,  I  will  obey.  If  my 
life,  sacrificed  in  torment,  can  procure  you  a  day 
of  happiness,  take  my  life;  I  will  smile  like  the 
martyrs  on  their  funeral  piles,  for  I  will  carry  that 
day  to  God  like  a  pledge  which  a  father  would 
fulfil  on  recognizing  a  pleasure  given  to  his  child.' 
Many  women  arrange  for  themselves  a  physiognomy 
and  succeed  in  producing  effects  similar  to  those 
which  you  would  have  experienced  on  seeing  the 
countess;  but,  with  her,  everything  proceeded  from 
a  delicious  naturalness,  and  this  inimitable  natural- 
ness went  straight  to  the  heart.  If  I  speak  to  you 
thus,  it  is  because  the  question  is  here  only  of  her 
soul,  of  her  thoughts,  of  the  delicacy  of  her  heart, 
and  because  you  would  have  reproached  me  for  not 
having  sketched  them  for  you.     I  was  on  the  point 


70  HONORINE 

of  forgetting  my  role  of  a  man  reputed  crazy,  brutal 
and  with  very  little  chivalry. 

"  'They  have  told  me  that  you  love  flowers,  ma- 
dame  ?' 

"  'I  am  a  workwoman  in  flowers,  monsieur,'  she 
replied.  'After  having  raised  the  flowers,  I  copy 
them,  like  a  mother  who  is  enough  of  an  artist  to 
give  herself  the  pleasure  of  painting  her  children.— 
Is  not  that  enough  to  say  to  you  that  I  am  poor, 
and  unable  to  pay  for  the  concession  which  I  wish 
to  obtain  from  you  ?' 

"  'And  how  is  it,'  I  replied  with  the  gravity  of  a 
magistrate,  'that  a  person  who  seems  to  be  as  dis- 
tinguished as  you  are  occupies  herself  with  such  a 
vocation?  Have  you  then,  like  myself,  reasons  for 
keeping  your  hands  busy  so  that  your  head  may 
not  do  any  work  ?' 

"  'Let  us  remain  on  the  party  wall,'  she  replied, 
smiling. 

"  'But  we  are  at  the  foundations,'  I  said.  'Is  it 
not  necessary  that  I  should  know,  from  our  two  sor- 
rows, or,  if  you  prefer,  from  our  two  crotchets, 
which  of  us  should  yield  to  the  other  ? — Ah !  what  a 
pretty  cluster  of  narcissus !  they  are  as  fresh  as  this 
morning!' 

"I  declare  to  you  that  she  had  created  for  herself, 
as  it  were,  a  museum  of  flowers  and  shrubs,  in  which 
the  sun  alone  penetrated,  the  arrangement  of  which 
had  been  dictated  by  an  artistic  genius,  and  which 
the  most  unsensitive  of  landlords  would  have  re- 
spected.    The  masses  of  flowers,  arranged  with  all 


HONORINE  71 

the  science  of  a  florist  or  disposed  in  clusters,  pro- 
duced a  pleasant  effect  on  the  soul.  This  quiet  and 
solitary  garden  exhaled  consoling  balsam  and  in- 
spired only  gentle  thoughts,  graceful  images,  volup- 
tuous ones  even.  In  it  might  be  recognized  that 
ineffable  signature  which  our  true  character  im- 
prints upon  everything,  when  nothing  constrains 
us  to  obey  the  various  hypocrisies,  otherwise  neces- 
sary, which  society  requires.  1  looked  alternately 
at  the  heap  of  narcissus  and  at  the  countess,  seeming 
to  be  more  attracted  by  them  than  by  her,  to  carry 
out  my  role. 

"  'You  love  flowers,  then,  very  much?'  she  said 
to  me. 

"'They  are,'  I  said,  'the  only  beings  which  do 
not  abuse  our  care  and  our  tenderness.' 

"Then  I  launched  into  so  violent  a  tirade,  draw- 
ing a  parallel  between  botanical  things  and  the 
world,  that  we  found  ourselves  a  thousand  leagues 
from  the  party  wall,  and  that  the  countess  must 
have  taken  me  for  a  suffering  soul,  wounded  and 
worthy  of  pity.  Nevertheless,  at  the  end  of  a  half- 
hour  my  neighbor  brought  me  back  naturally  to  the 
question ;  for  the  women,  when  they  are  not  in  love, 
have  all  the  coolness  of  an  old  attorney. 

"  'If  I  allow  you  to  keep  the  paling  fence,'  I  said 
to  her,  'you  will  learn  all  the  secrets  of  the  culti- 
vating which  I  wish  to  conceal,  for  I  am  seeking  for 
the  blue  dahlia,  the  blue  rose,  I  am  crazy  on  blue 
flowers.  Is  not  blue  the  favorite  color  of  fine  souls.? 
We  are  neither  of  us  in  our  own  house;  we  might 


72  HONORINE 

as  well  put  in  a  little  open-work  gate  which  would 
unite  our  two  gardens. — You  love  flowers,  you  would 
see  mine,  I  should  see  yours.  If  you  receive  no 
one,  1  am  visited  only  by  my  uncle,  the  cure  des 
Blancs-Manteaux.' 

"  'No,'  she  said,  *I  do  not  wish  to  give  anyone 
the  right  to  enter  my  garden,  my  home,  at  any  hour. 
Come  in,  you  will  be  always  received  like  a  neigh- 
bor with  whom  I  wish  to  live  on  friendly  relations; 
but  I  love  my  solitude  too  much  to  burden  it  with 
any  dependence  whatever.' 

"  'As  you  like!'  I  said. 

"And  I  leaped  over  the  paling  with  a  bound. 

"  'Of  what  use  would  a  gate  be?'  1  cried  when  I 
was  on  my  own  ground,  turning  toward  the  countess 
and  mocking  her  with  a  gesture,  with  a  crazy 
grimace. 

"I  remained  two  weeks  without  seeming  to  think 
of  my  neighbor.  On  a  beautiful  evening,  about  the 
end  of  the  month  of  May,  it  happened  that  we  were 
each  on  our  own  side  of  the  paling,  walking  with 
slow  steps.  When  we  came  to  the  end,  it  seemed 
to  be  necessary  to  exchange  some  words  of  polite- 
ness ;  she  found  me  so  completely  crushed,  plunged 
into  so  dolorous  a  reverie,  that  she  spoke  to  me  of 
hope,  throwing  to  me  some  phrases  which  were  like 
those  songs  with  which  nurses  put  their  children  to 
sleep.  Then  I  crossed  the  hedge  and  found  myself 
for  the  second  time  near  her.  The  countess  made 
me  come  into  her  house,  wishing  to  lighten  my  sor- 
row.    I  thus  penetrated  finally  into  that  sanctuary 


HONORINE  73 

in  which  everything  was  in  harmony  with  the 
woman  whom  I  have  endeavored  to  depict  to  you. 
There  reigned  throughout  an  exquisite  simplicity. 
This  pavilion,  in  its  interior,  was  indeed  the  pretty 
little  box  invented  by  the  art  of  the  eighteenth 
century  for  the  cheerful  debauchery  of  a  grand 
seigneur.  The  walls  of  the  dining-room,  situated 
on  the  ground  floor,  were  covered  with  paintings  in 
fresco  representing  flowers  on  trellis  work,  of  an 
admirable  and  marvelous  execution.  The  wall  of 
the  staircase  presented  charming  decorations  in 
cameo.  The  little  salon,  which  was  opposite  to  the 
dining-room,  was  greatly  damaged,  but  the  countess 
had  hung  on  the  walls  curious  old  tapestries  that 
had  formed  parts  of  ancient  screens.  A  bath-room 
was  adjoining.  Upstairs,  there  was  only  one 
chamber  with  its  dressing-room  and  a  library  meta- 
morphosed into  a  workroom.  The  kitchen  was 
concealed  in  the  basement  over  which  the  pavilion 
rose,  for  it  was  necessary  to  mount  to  it  by  a  perron 
of  several  steps.  The  balustrades  of  the  gallery 
and  its  garlands  of  Pompadour  flowers  disguised  the 
roof,  of  which  nothing  could  be  seen  but  the  pin- 
nacles in  lead.  In  this  retreat,  you  were  a  hundred 
leagues  from  Paris.  Were  it  not  for  the  bitter 
smile  which  sometimes  played  over  the  beautiful 
red  lips  of  this  pale  woman,  you  would  have  believed 
in  the  happiness  of  this  violet  buried  in  its  forest  of 
flowers.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  we  arrived  at 
a  state  of  confidence  which  sprang  from  our  being 
neighbors  and  from  the  certainty  which  the  countess 


74  HONORINE 

had  of  my  complete  indifference  to  women.  One 
look  might  have  compromised  everything,  and  never 
did  a  single  thought  of  her  appear  in  my  eyes! 
Honorine  wished  to  see  in  me  something  like  an  old 
friend.  Her  manners  with  me  proceeded  from  a 
sort  of  compassion.  Her  looks,  her  voice,  her  con- 
versation, everything  revealed  the  fact  that  she  was 
a  thousand  leagues  from  those  coquetries  which  the 
most  severe  woman  would  perhaps  have  permitted 
herself  under  similar  circumstances.  It  was  not 
long  before  she  gave  me  the  right  of  entrance  into 
the  charming  workroom  in  which  she  made  her 
flowers,  a  retreat  crowded  with  books  and  curiosi- 
ties, adorned  like  a  boudoir,  and  the  richness  of 
which  redeemed  the  commonness  of  the  working 
utensils.  The  countess  had,  in  the  long  run,  poet- 
ized, as  it  were — which  is  the  antipodes  of  poetry 
— a  manufacture.  Of  all  the  vocations  which 
women  can  pursue,  that  of  making  artificial  flowers 
is,  perhaps,  the  one  of  which  the  details  permit 
them  to  display  the  most  gracefulness.  To  color 
them,  a  woman  must  lean  over  a  table  and  give  all 
her  faculties,  with  a  certain  amount  of  intenseness, 
to  this  semi-painting.  Tapestry  weaving,  followed 
as  assiduously  as  it  must  be  by  a  workwoman  who 
wishes  to  earn  her  living  by  it,  is  apt  to  produce  pul- 
monary consumption,  or  curvature  of  the  spine. 
The  engraving  of  plates  of  music  is  one  of  the 
labors  the  most  tyrannical  by  its  minuteness,  by  the 
care  and  the  intelligence  which  it  requires.  Sew- 
ing, embroidery,  do  not  give  the  workwoman  thirty 


HONORINE  75 

SOUS  a  day.  But  the  manufacture  of  flowers  and 
that  of  feminine  fashions  necessitate  a  multitude 
of  movements,  of  gestures,  of  ideas  even,  which 
leave  a  pretty  woman  still  in  her  own  sphere;  she 
is  still  herself,  she  may  talk,  laugh,  sing,  or  think. 
Certainly  there  was  an  artistic  sentiment  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  countess  disposed  on  a  long 
table  of  yellow  pine  the  myriad  of  colored  petals 
which  served  to  compose  the  flowers  upon  which  she 
had  decided.  Her  cups  of  color  were  of  white  porce- 
lain, and  always  clean,  ranged  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  permit  the  eye  to  fmd  immediately  the  desired 
shade  in  the  whole  gamut  of  tints.  The  noble  artist 
thus  economized  her  time.  A  pretty  piece  of  furni- 
ture in  ebony  inlaid  with  ivory,  with  a  hundred 
Venetian  drawers,  contained  the  matrices  of  steel 
with  which  she  struck  the  leaves  or  certain  petals. 
A  magnificent  Japanese  bowl  contained  the  paste, 
which  she  never  allowed  to  become  sour,  and  to 
which  she  had  adapted  a  cover  with  a  hinge  so  light, 
so  m.ovable,  that  she  lifted  it  with  the  tip  of  her 
finger.  The  iron  and  the  brass  wire  were  kept  in  a 
little  drawer  of  her  work-table,  before  her.  The 
living  flower,  with  which  she  proposed  to  compete, 
rose  before  her  eyes  in  a  Venetian  glass,  swelling 
out  like  a  calix  upon  its  stem.  She  had  a  passion 
for  the  most  difficult  masterpieces,  she  undertook 
the  most  impossible  tasks,  bunches  of  grapes,  the 
most  delicate  corolla,  heath,  nectarines  of  the  most 
capricious  shades.  Her  hands,  as  active  as  her 
thoughts,  went  from    her   table   to   her   flower   as 


76  HONORINE 

lightly  as  those  of  an  artist  on  the  keys  of  a  piano. 
Her  fingers  seemed  to  be  fairies,  to  make  use  of  an 
expression  of  Perrault,  so  well  did  they  conceal, 
under  the  gracefulness  of  the  movement,  the  differ- 
ent forces  of  twisting,  of  application  of  weight  re- 
quired by  each  work,  while  adapting  with  instinc- 
tive clearness  each  movement  to  the  result  desired. 
I  did  not  weary  of  the  pleasure  of  admiring  her 
while  she  composed  a  flower  as  soon  as  all  its  parts 
had  been  assembled  before  her,  and  perfecting, 
covering  a  stem  with  down,  and  attaching  the 
leaves  to  it.  She  displayed  the  genius  of  a  painter 
in  her  audacious  enterprises,  she  imitated  faded 
flowers,  yellow  leaves;  she  struggled  with  the  field 
flowers,  with  all  that  were  the  most  natural,  the 
most  complicated  in  their  simplicity. 

"'This  art,'  she  said  to  me,  'is  still  in  its  in- 
fancy. If  Parisian  women  had  a  little  of  that 
genius  which  the  slavery  of  the  harem  requires  in 
the  women  of  the  Orient,  they  would  give  a  com- 
plete language  to  the  flowers  which  they  wear  on 
their  heads.  I  have  made,  for  my  own  artistic  sat- 
isfaction, faded  flowers  with  the  leaves  of  the  color 
of  Florentine  bronze,  as  they  are  found  before  or 
after  the  winter. — This  wreath,  on  the  head  of  a 
young  woman  whose  life  has  been  a  disappointment, 
or  who  is  devoured  by  a  secret  grief,  would  it 
lack  poetical  meaning?  How  many  things  could  a 
woman  not  express  by  her  coiffure  ?  Are  there  not 
flowers  for  the  drunken  bacchantes,  flowers  for  the 
gloomy  and  rigid  pious  souls,  thoughtful  flowers  for 


HONORINE  ^^ 

wearied  women  ?  Botany  may  express,  it  seems 
to  me,  all  the  sensations  and  the  thoughts  of  the 
soul,  even  the  most  delicate  ones!* 

"She  made  use  of  me  to  stamp  the  leaves,  to  cut 
out,  to  prepare  the  wire  for  the  stems.  My  pre- 
tended wish  for  distraction  soon  rendered  me  skilful. 
We  talked  all  the  time  we  were  working.  When  I 
had  nothing  to  do,  I  read  the  news  to  her,  for  I  could 
not  lose  sight  of  my  role,  and  I  feigned  the  man 
wearied  with  life,  worn  out  by  griefs,  morose,  scep- 
tical, bitter.  My  appearance  procured  me  adorable 
little  jests  upon  the  purely  physical  resemblance 
— excepting  the  lame  foot — to  Lord  Byron.  It  was 
accepted  as  beyond  question,  that  her  own  unhappi- 
nesses,  concerning  which  she  wished  to  preserve 
the  most  profound  silence,  outweighed  mine, 
although  already  the  causes  for  my  misanthropy 
would  have  satisfied  Young  or  Job.  I  will  not 
speak  to  you  of  the  sentiments  of  shame  which  tor- 
tured me  in  thus  assuming  for  my  heart,  as  do  the 
beggars  in  the  streets  for  their  limbs,  false  scars  in 
order  thus  to  excite  the  pity  of  this  admirable  woman. 
I  soon  came  to  understand  all  the  extent  of  my  de- 
votion in  comprehending  all  the  baseness  of  spies. 
The  testimonials  of  sympathy  which  I  then  received 
would  have  consoled  the  greatest  of  misfortunes. 
This  charming  creature,  severed  from  the  world, 
alone  for  so  many  years,  had,  outside  of  love,  treas- 
ures of  affection  to  bestow,  she  offered  them  to  me 
with  childlike  effusion,  with  a  pity  which  certainly 
would  have  filled  with  bitterness  the  roue  who  might 


78  HONORINE 

have  loved  her;  for,  alas!  she  was  all  charity,  all 
compassion.  Her  renunciation  of  love,  her  terror  of 
what  is  called  happiness  for  women,  broke  out  with 
as  much  force  as  ingenuousness.  These  happy  days 
proved  to  me  that  the  friendship  of  women  is  much 
superior  to  their  love.  I  permitted  the  confidences 
of  my  griefs  to  be  drawn  from  me  with  as  many 
affectations  as  the  young  ladies  assume  when  seating 
themselves  at  the  piano,  so  conscious  are  they  of 
the  weariness  which  they  are  about  to  inflict.  As 
you  may  imagine,  the  necessity  of  overcoming  my 
repugnance  to  speak  had  ended  by  forcing  the  count- 
ess to  draw  closer  the  bonds  of  our  intimacy;  but 
she  found  again  in  me  so  completely  her  own  an- 
tipathy to  love,  that  she  seemed  to  me  to  be  happy 
because  of  the  chance  which  had  sent  to  her  in  her 
solitary  island  a  species  of  man  Friday.  Perhaps 
the  solitude  had  commenced  to  weigh  upon  her. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  without  the  slightest  co- 
quetry, she  had  no  longer  anything  of  the  woman, 
she  was  no  longer  conscious  of  any  heart,  she  said 
to  me,  but  in  the  ideal  world  in  which  she  sought 
refuge.  Involuntarily  I  drew  the  comparison  be- 
tween these  two  existences,  that  of  the  count,  all 
action,  all  agitation,  all  emotion ;  that  of  the  count- 
ess, quite  passive,  all  inactivity,  all  motionless. 
The  woman  and  the  man  admirably  obeyed  each 
his  own  nature.  My  misanthropy  authorized  me 
to  launch  against  men  and  women  certain  cynical  in- 
vectives, which  1  permitted  myself,  hoping  thereby 
to  bring  Honorine  to  some  avowals;  but  she  did  not 


HONORINE  79 

allow  herself  to  be  drawn  into  any  trap,  and  I  began 
to  comprehend  that  obstinacy  of  a  mule,  more  common 
among  women  than  is  thought. 

"'The  Orientals  are  right,'  I  said  to  her  one 
evening,  'in  shutting  you  up  and  in  considering  you 
as  only  the  instruments  of  their  pleasures.  Europe 
has  been  well  punished  for  having  admitted  you  as 
part  of  the  world,  and  for  accepting  you  on  a  footing 
of  equality.  In  my  opinion  the  woman  is  the  most 
dishonest  and  the  most  contemptible  being  that  can 
be  encountered.  And  it  is  to  that  cause,  moreover, 
that  she  owes  her  charms; — there  is  very  little 
pleasure  in  hunting  a  domestic  animal!  When  a 
woman  has  inspired  a  man  with  a  passion,  she  is 
forever  sacred  to  him ;  she  is,  in  his  eyes,  clothed 
with  an  imprescriptible  privilege.  With  man,  the 
gratitude  for  past  pleasures  is  eternal.  If  he  find 
again  his  mistress  old,  or  unworthy  of  him,  this 
woman  still  has  certain  rights  over  his  heart;  but, 
for  you  women,  a  man  whom  you  have  loved  is  no 
longer  anything;  more  than  that,  he  is  guilty  of  an 
unpardonable  wrong,  that  of  living! — You  dare  not 
avow  it ;  but  you  all  have  in  your  heart  that  thought 
which  the  popular  calumnies  called  tradition  ascribe 
to  the  Lady  of  the  Tour  de  Nesle. — What  a  pity  it 
is  that  you  cannot  nourish  yourself  on  love  as  you 
can  on  fruits!  and  that,  of  a  repast  partaken,  there 
nothing  could  remain  to  you  but  the  feeling  of 
pleasure! — ' 

"'God,'  she  said,  'has  doubtless  reserved  this 
perfect  pleasure  for  Paradise. — But,'  she  went  on, 


80  HONORINE 

'if  your  argument  seems  to  you  very  intelligent,  it 
has  for  me  the  misfortune  of  being  false.  What 
are  those  women  who  give  themselves  up  to  several 
loves  ?'  she  asked  me,  looking  at  me  as  the  Virgin  of 
Ingres  looked  at  Louis  XIII.  offering  her  his  kingdom. 

"  'You  are  a  genuine  comedienne,'  I  replied,  'for 
you  have  just  given  me  one  of  those  looks  which 
would  make  the  fortune  of  an  actress.  But,  beauti- 
ful as  you  are,  you  have  loved;  therefore,  you 
forget. ' 

"  'I,'  she  replied,  eluding  my  question,  'I  am  not 
a  woman,  I  am  a  nun,  of  the  age  of  seventy -two 
years. ' 

"  'How  then  can  you  affirm  so  authoritatively 
that  you  feel  with  more  sensitiveness  than  I  ?  Un- 
happiness  for  women  has  only  one  form,  they  con- 
sider as  misfortunes  only  deceivings  of  the  heart.' 

"She  looked  at  me  with  a  gentle  air,  and  did  as 
do  all  women,  when,  caught  between  the  two  horns 
of  a  dilemma,  or  clutched  in  the  grasp  of  truth,  they 
persist  none  the  less  in  their  will;  she  said  to  me: 

"  '1  am  a  nun,  and  you  speak  to  me  of  a  world  in 
which  I  can  no  longer  set  foot' 

"  'Not  even  in  thought?*  I  said  to  her. 

"  'Is  the  world  so  worthy  of  being  envied?'  she 
replied.  'Oh!  when  my  thoughts  wander,  they  go 
much  higher. — The  angel  of  perfection,  the  beautiful 
Gabriel,  often  sings  in  my  heart,'  she  said.  'I 
should  be  rich,  I  would  work  none  the  less,  so  that 
I  might  not  mount  too  often  on  the  variegated  wings 
of  the  angel  and  fly  away  into  the  kingdom  of  fancy. 


HONORINE  8r 

There  are  certain  contemplations  which  are  our  un- 
doing, we  women  !  I  owe  much  of  my  tranquillity  to 
my  flowers,  though  they  do  not  always  succeed  in 
occupying  me.  On  certain  days,  I  feel  my  soul 
invaded  by  an  objectless  expectation ;  I  cannot  ban- 
ish a  thought  which  takes  possession  of  me,  which 
seems  to  make  my  fingers  heavy.  I  believe  that  a 
great  event  is  preparing,  that  my  life  is  about  to 
change;  I  listen  in  empty  space,  I  look  into  the 
shadows,  I  am  without  interest  in  my  work,  and  I 
find  again,  after  a  thousand  fatigues,  life — daily 
life.  Is  it  a  forewarning  from  Heaven  ?  That  is 
what  I  ask  myself — * 

"After  three  months  of  the  struggle  between  two 
diplomatists,  one  concealed  under  the  skin  of  a 
melancholy  juvenile  and  the  other  a  woman  ren- 
dered invincible  by  loathing,  I  told  the  count  that 
it  appeared  to  be  impossible  to  make  this  tortoise 
come  out  of  her  house.  It  would  be  necessary  to 
break  her  shell.  The  evening  before,  in  a  last 
discussion,  perfectly  friendly,  the  countess  had  ex- 
claimed: 

"  'Lucretia  wrote  with  her  dagger  and  her  blood 
the  first  word  of  the  charter  of  all  women :  Liberty !' 

"The  count  gave  me  from  this  time  carte  blanche. 

"  'I  have  sold  for  a  hundred  francs  the  flowers 
and  bonnets  which  I  have  made  this  week !'  said 
Honorine  to  me,  joyously,  one  Saturday  evening 
when  I  went  to  see  her  in  the  little  salon  on  the 
ground  floor,  the  gildings  of  which  had  been  renewed 
by  the  pretended  owner. 
6 


82  HONORINE 


<<i 


'It  was  ten  o'clock.  A  July  twilight  and  a 
magnificent  moon  contributed  their  clouded  light. 
There  were  whiffs  of  mingled  perfumes  that  caressed 
the  soul,  the  countess  clinked  in  her  hand  the  five 
pieces  of  gold  received  from  a  false  dealer  in  milli- 
nery, another  ally  of  Octave,  whom  a  judge,  Mon- 
sieur Popinot,  had  found  for  him. 

"  'To  earn  one's  livelihood  while  amusing  one's 
self,'  she  said,  *to  be  free,  when  men,  armed  with 
their  laws,  have  wished  to  make  slaves  of  us !  Oh ! 
every  Saturday  I  have  emotions  of  pride.  In  fact, 
I  love  Monsieur  Gaudissart's  gold  pieces  as  much 
as  Lord  Byron,  your  twin,  loved  those  of  Murray.' 

"  'It  is  scarcely  a  woman's  role,'  I  replied. 

"  'Bah!  am  I  a  woman?  I  am  a  youth  endowed 
with  a  tender  soul,  that  is  all ;  a  youth  whom  no 
woman  can  torment — ' 

"  'Your  life  is  a  negation  of  your  entire  being,'  I 
replied.  'What,  you  for  whom  God  has  expended 
his  most  curious  treasures  of  love  and  of  beauty, 
do  you  not  desire  sometimes — ?' 

"  'What?'  she  asked,  sufficiently  mistrustful  at  a 
phrase  which,  for  the  first  time,  contradicted  my 
assumed  character. 

"  'A  pretty  child  with  curling  hair,  coming,  going 
among  these  flowers,  like  a  flower  of  life  and  of  love, 
crying  to  you:  "Mamma!" — ' 

"I  waited  for  a  reply.  A  silence  somewhat  too 
prolonged  made  me  perceive  the  terrible  effect  of  my 
words,  which  the  darkness  had  concealed  from  me. — 
Reclining  on  her  divan,  the  countess  had  not  fainted. 


HONORINE  83 

but  was  chilled  by  a  nervous  attack,  the  first  shiver- 
ings  of  which  although  gentle,  like  everything 
which  emanated  from  her,  resembled,  as  she  after- 
wards said,  the  first  effects  of  the  most  subtle  of 
poisons.  I  called  Madame  Gobain,  who  came  and 
carried  her  mistress  away,  placed  her  upon  her  bed, 
unlaced  her,  undressed  her,  restored  her,  not  to  life 
but  to  the  consciousness  of  a  horrible  pain.  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  alley  which  ran  in  front  of 
the  house,  weeping,  doubting  of  success.  I  would 
have  resigned  my  role  of  bird-catcher,  so  impru- 
dently accepted.  Madame  Gobain,  who  came  down 
and  found  me  with  my  face  covered  with  tears,  went 
back  promptly  to  say  to  the  countess : 

"  'Madame,  what  has  happened .-'  Monsieur  Mau- 
rice is  weeping  bitterly,  like  a  child.' 

"Stimulated  by  the  dangerous  interpretation 
which  might  be  put  upon  our  mutual  agitation,  she 
found  a  superhuman  strength,  put  on  a  wrapper, 
descended  and  came  to  me. 

"  'You  are  not  the  cause  of  this  attack,'  she  said 
to  me;  *I  am  subject  to  spasms,  a  species  of  cramp 
of  the  heart — ' 

"  'And  you  wish  to  conceal  from  me  your  griefs.?' 
— I  said  to  her,  drying  my  tears,  and  in  that  voice 
which  does  not  dissemble.  'Have  you  not  just  told 
me  that  you  have  been  a  mother,  that  you  have  had 
the  sorrow  of  losing  your  child?' 

"  'Marie!'  she  cried  suddenly,  ringing  the  bell. 

"The  Gobain  made  her  appearance. 

"'Some  lights,  and  the  tea,'  she  said,  with  the 


84  HONORINE 

coolness  of  a  lady  armed  with  pride  by  that  atro- 
cious British  education  which  is  known  to  you 
well. 

"When  the  Gobain  had  lit  the  candles  and  closed 
the  shades,  the  countess  presented  to  me  a  counte- 
nance which  revealed  nothing;  her  indomitable 
pride,  her  gravity  of  a  savage,  had  already  resumed 
their  sway;  she  said  to  me: 

"  *Do  you  know  why  I  love  Lord  Byron  so  much  ? 
— He  suffered  as  the  animals  suffer.  Of  what  use 
is  a  complaint  when  it  is  not  an  elegy  like  that  of 
Manfred,  a  bitter  jesting  like  that  of  Don  Juan,  a 
reverie  like  that  of  Childe  Harold?  No  one  will 
know  anything  of  me! — My  heart  is  a  poem  that  I 
carry  to  God !' 

'"If  I  wished—'  I  said. 

"  'If?'  she  repeated. 

"  'I  am  not  interested  in  anything,'  I  replied,  'I 
cannot  be  curious;  but,  if  I  wished,  I  would  know 
to-morrow  all  your  secrets.' 

"  'I  defy  you  to  do  so!'  she  said  with  an  ill-con- 
cealed anxiety. 

"  'Are  you  in  earnest?' 

"'Certainly,'  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  'I 
should  know  if  this  crime  be  possible.' 

"  'In  the  first  place,  madame,'  I  replied,  indicating 
to  her  her  hands,  'those  pretty  fingers,  which  reveal 
clearly  enough  that  you  are  not  a  young  workwoman, 
were  they  made  for  labor?  Then,  you  call  yourself 
Madame  Gobain,  you  who,  before  me,  the  other  day, 
when  you  received  a  letter  said  to  Marie, — 'Here,  it 


HONORINE  85 

is  for  you,'  Marie  is  the  true  Madame  Gobain. 
Tiierefore,  you  hide  your  own  name  under  that  of 
your  housekeeper.  Oh !  madame,  from  me  you  need 
fear  nothing.  You  have  in  me  the  most  devoted 
friend  that  you  will  ever  have — Friend,  you  under- 
stand? 1  give  to  this  word  its  holy  and  touching 
meaning,  so  profaned  in  France,  where  we  baptize 
with  it  our  enemies.  This  friend,  who  will  defend 
you  against  everything,  wishes  you  to  be  as  happy 
as  a  woman  like  you  should  be.  Who  knows  if  the 
pain  I  caused  you  involuntarily  was  not  a  voluntary 
action  ?* 

"'Yes,'  she  replied  with  a  menacing  audacity, 
*I  wish  it,  you  may  become  curious,  and  tell  me  all 
that  you  can  learn  about  me,  but — '  she  said,  rais- 
ing her  finger,  'you  will  tell  me  also  through  what 
sources  you  have  derived  this  information.  The 
preservation  of  the  feeble  happiness  which  I  enjoy 
here  depends  upon  your  steps.' 

"  'That  is  to  say,  that  you  would  fly — ' 

"  'As  quickly  as  possible,  and  to  the  New 
World—' 

"'Where  you  would  be, '  I  interrupted  her,  'at 
the  mercy  of  the  brutality  of  the  passions  which 
you  would  inspire.  Is  it  not  the  quality  of  genius 
and  of  beauty  to  shine,  to  attract  all  regards,  to 
excite  covetousness  and  wickedness.?  Paris  is  the 
desert  without  the  Bedouins;  Paris  is  the  only 
spot  in  the  world  in  which  one  can  conceal  him- 
self when  obliged  to  live  by  his  own  labor.  Of 
what  do  you  complain?     Who  am  I?  one  domestic 


86  HONORINE 

the  more,  I  am  Monsieur  Gobain,  that  is  all.  If 
you  have  some  duel  on  hand,  you  will  require  a 
second.' 

"  'Nevertheless,  discover  who  I  am,  I  have 
already  said: — /  wish  it!  now,  I  entreat  you,'  she 
repeated  with  a  grace,  which  you  always  have  at 
your  command,"  said  the  consul,  looking  at  the 
ladies. 

"  'Very  well,  to-morrow,  at  this  hour,  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  discovered,'  I  replied.  'But  do  not 
conceive  a  hatred  against  me.  Will  you  do  as  the 
other  women  do  ?' 

"  'What  is  it  the  other  women  do?' 

"  'They  command  us  to  make  immense  sacrifices, 
and,  when  they  are  accomplished,  they  reproach  us 
with  them  a  little  later,  as  though  they  were 
injuries.' 

"  'They  are  right,  if  what  they  have  demanded 
of  you  have  seemed  to  you  to  be  sacrifices — '  she 
replied,  maliciously. 

"  'Replace  the  word  sacrifices  by  the  word  efforts, 
and — * 

"  'That  would  be,'  she  said,  'an  impertinence.' 

"  'Forgive  me,'  I  said  to  her,  'I  forgot  that  women 
and  the  Pope  are  infallible.' 

"  'Mon  Dieu!'  she  said  after  a  long  pause,  'two 
words  only  can  trouble  this  peace  so  dearly  pur- 
chased, and  which  I  enjoy  as  if  it  were  a  fraud — ' 

"She  rose,  paying  no  more  attention  to  me. 

"'Whereto  go?'  she  said.  'What  to  become — 
Will    it   be   necessary  to   leave   this   soft   retreat, 


HONORINE  87 

prepared  with  so  much  care  that  1  might  finish  my 
days  in  it?' 

"  'Finish  your  days  in  it?'  I  said  to  her  with  a 
visible  terror,  'Has  it  then  never  occurred  to  you 
that  there  will  come  a  time  when  you  can  no  longer 
work,  or  when  the  price  of  flowers  and  of  milli- 
nery will  have  fallen  through  competition? — ' 

"  'I  have  already  a  thousand  ecus  of  savings !'  she 
said. 

"  'Mon  Dieu !  how  many  privations  this  sum  must 
represent? — '  I  cried. 

"'Till  to-morrow,'  she  said  to  me,  'leave  me. 
This  evening  I  am  not  myself,  I  wish  to  be  alone. 
Should  1  not  gather  my  forces  in  case  of  misfortune? 
for,  if  you  should  know  something,  the  others  who 
have  informed  you,  and  then— Adieu,'  she  said,  in 
a  quick  tone  and  with  an  imperative  gesture. 

"'To-morrow,  the  combat,'  I  replied  smiling, 
so  as  not  to  lose  the  careless  character  which  I  had 
given  to  this  scene. 

"But,  in  going  away  by  the  long  avenue,  I  re- 
peated to  myself: 

"  'To-morrow,  the  combat' 

"And  the  count,  whom  I  went  to  find,  as  every 
evening,  on  the  boulevard,  cried  likewise: 

"  'To-morrow,  the  combat' 

"Octave's  anxiety  equaled  that  of  Honorine. 
We  remained,  he  and  I,  until  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  walking  up  and  down  along  the  moats  of 
the  Bastille,  like  two  generals  who,  the  evening  be- 
fore a  battle,  weigh  all  the  chances,  examine  the 


88  HONORINE 

ground,  and  recognize  that  in  the  midst  of  the  com- 
bat the  victory  may  be  decided  by  an  accident  to 
be  taken  advantage  of.  These  two  beings,  violently 
separated,  were  both  watching,  the  one  in  the  hope, 
the  other  in  the  dread,  of  a  reunion.  The  dramas 
of  life  are  not  in  the  events,  they  are  in  the  feelings 
they  take  place  in  the  heart,  or,  if  you  prefer,  in  that 
immense  world  which  we  must  call  the  spiritual 
world.  Octave  and  Honor ine  acted,  lived  exclu- 
sively in  this  world  of  the  great  intelligences. 

"1  was  prompt.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
for  the  first  time,  I  was  admitted  into  a  charming 
chamber,  white  and  blue,  into  the  nest  of  this 
wounded  dove.  The  countess  looked  at  me,  wished 
me  to  speak,  and  was  terrified  by  my  respectful  air. 

"  'Madame  la  Comtesse — '  I  said  to  her,  smiling 
gravely. 

"The  poor  woman,  who  had  risen,  fell  back  in 
her  armchair  and  remained  there  in  an  attitude  of 
distress  which  I  could  have  wished  some  great 
painter  to  seize. 

"You  are,'  I  said  continuing,  'the  wife  of  the 
most  noble  of  men  and  one  of  the  greatest  consider- 
ation, of  a  man  who  is  accepted  as  great,  but  who 
is  much  more  so  toward  you  than  he  is  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world.  You  and  he,  you  are  two  lofty  char- 
acters. Where  do  you  think  you  are,  here?'  I 
asked  her. 

"  'In  my  house,'  she  replied,  opening  eyes  which 
were  dilated  by  astonishment. 

"'In   the   house   of  Comte   Octave!'   1  replied. 


HONORINE  89 

'We  have  been  tricked.  Monsieur  Lenormand,  the 
clerk  of  the  court,  is  not  the  true  proprietor,  it  is 
the  assumed  name  of  your  husband.  The  admir- 
able peacefulness  which  you  enjoy  here  is  the  work 
of  the  count,  the  money  that  you  earn  comes  from 
the  count,  and  his  protection  extends  to  the  very 
slightest  details  of  your  existence.  Your  husband 
has  saved  you  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  he  has 
given  plausible  motives  for  your  absence,  he 
ostensibly  hopes  that  you  were  not  lost  in  the  ship- 
wreck of  the  Cecile,  the  vessel  upon  which  you 
embarked  to  go  to  Havana,  in  order  to  secure  the 
inheritance  of  an  old  relative  who  might  possibly 
have  forgotten  you;  you  traveled  in  the  company  of 
two  women  of  his  family  and  of  an  old  steward! 
The  count  claims  that  he  has  sent  agents  to  those 
distant  localities,  and  that  he  has  received  letters 
which  give  him  a  great  deal  of  hope. — He  takes,  to 
conceal  you  from  all  eyes,  as  many  precautions  as 
you,  yourself. — In  short,  he  obeys  you — ' 

"'Enough,'  she  replied.  'I  wish  to  know  only 
one  thing  more.  From  whom  do  you  obtain  these 
details  ?' 

***Eh!  Moil  Dieu !  madame,  my  uncle  secured 
the  place  of  secretary  in  the  office  of  the  commissary 
of  police  of  this  quarter  for  a  young  man  without 
fortune.  This  young  man  has  told  me  everything. 
If  you  should  leave  this  pavilion  secretly  this  even- 
ing, your  husband  will  know  where  you  go,  and  his 
protection  will  follow  you  everywhere.  How  could 
a  woman  of  intelligence  be  able  to  believe  that  the 


90  HONORINE 

shopkeepers  could  pay  as  much  for  flowers  and  bon- 
nets as  they  sell  them  for  ?  If  you  had  asked  of 
them  a  thousand  ecus  for  a  bouquet,  they  would 
have  given  it  to  you !  Never  was  the  tenderness  of 
a  mother  more  ingenious  than  that  of  your  husband. 
I  have  learned  from  the  concierge  of  your  house  that 
the  count  often  comes,  when  everything  is  quiet, 
behind  the  hedge,  to  watch  the  light  of  your  night 
lamp!  Your  great  cashmere  shawl  is  worth  six 
thousand  francs. — The  merchant  from  whom  you 
buy  your  toilet  articles  sells  you  as  second-hand 
goods  that  come  from  the  very  best  manufactories — 
In  short,  you  here  realize  perfectly,  Venus  in  the 
toils  of  Vulcan ;  but  you  are  caught  in  them  alone, 
and  by  the  invention  of  a  sublime  generosity,  sub- 
lime for  the  last  seven  years,  and  at  every  moment. ' 

"The  countess  trembled  as  trembles  a  captive 
swallow,  and  which,  in  the  hand  in  which  it  is  held, 
stretches  its  neck,  looks  around  it  with  a  terrified 
eye.  She  was  agitated  by  a  nervous  convulsion, 
and  examined  me  with  a  mistrustful  look.  Her  dry 
eyes  emitted  a  light  that  was  almost  warm;  but  she 
was  still  a  woman! — there  came  a  moment  in  which 
her  tears  broke  forth,  and  she  wept,  not  because 
she  was  touched,  she  wept  at  her  helplessness,  she 
wept  with  despair.  She  had  thought  herself  inde- 
pendent and  free,  marriage  weighed  upon  her  like 
the  prison  upon  the  captive. 

"'I  will  go,'  she  said,  through  her  tears,  'he 
forces  me  to  it,  I  will  go  there  where,  certainly,  no 
one  will  follow  me!' 


HONORINE  91 

"'Ah!'  I  said,  'you  will  kill  yourself — Come, 
madame,  you  must  have  very  powerful  reasons  for 
not  wishing  to  return  to  Comte  Octave's  house.' 

"'Oh!  certainly!' 

"  'Well,  tell  them  to  me,  tell  them  to  my  uncle; 
you  will  have  in  us  two  devoted  counselors.  If  my 
uncle  is  a  priest  in  a  confessional,  he  never  is  in 
a  salon.  We  will  listen  to  you,  we  will  endeavor  to 
find  a  solution  to  the  problems  which  you  will  pro- 
pose to  us :  and,  if  you  are  the  dupe  or  the  victim 
of  some  misunderstanding,  perhaps  we  may  be  able 
to  clear  it  up.  Your  soul  seems  to  me  pure ;  but,  if 
you  have  committed  a  fault,  you  have  well  expiated 
it. — Finally,  remember  that  you  have  in  me  the 
most  sincere  friend.  If  you  wish  to  save  yourself 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  count,  1  will  furnish  you 
with  the  means,  he  will  never  find  you.' 

"  'Oh!  there  is  the  convent,'  she  said. 

"  'Yes,  but  the  count,  become  Minister  of  State, 
would  cause  you  to  be  refused  by  all  the  convents 
in  the  world.  Although  he  is  very  powerful,  I 
would  save  you  from  him, — but — when  you  have 
demonstrated  to  me  that  you  cannot,  that  you  should 
not,  return  to  him.  Oh!  do  not  think  that  you 
would  fly  from  his  power  to  fall  into  mine,'  1  went 
on,  as  I  received  from  her  a  horrible  glance  of  mis- 
trust and  one  full  of  an  exaggerated  nobility.  'You 
will  have  peace,  solitude,  and  independence;  in 
short,  you  will  be  as  free  and  as  respected  as  if  you 
were  an  ugly  and  wicked  old  maid.  1  shall  not  be 
able,  myself,  to  see  you  without  your  consent' 


92  MONOKINE 

"  'And  how?  by  what  means?' 

"  'That,  madame,  is  my  secret.  I  do  not  deceive 
you  in  the  least,  of  that  you  may  be  certain. 
Demonstrate  to  me  that  this  life  is  the  only  one 
which  you  can  lead,  that  it  is  preferable  to  that  of 
the  Comtesse  Octave,  rich,  honored,  in  one  of  the 
finest  hotels  in  Paris,  adored  by  her  husband,  a 
happy  mother — and  I  will  decide  your  cause  in  your 
favor. ' 

"  'But,'  she  said,  'will  there  ever  be  a  man  who 
will  comprehend  me? — ' 

"  'No,'  I  replied.  'Therefore  I  have  called  in  re- 
ligion to  judge  us,  the  cure  of  the  Blancs-Manteaux 
is  a  saint,  seventy-five  years  of  age.  My  uncle  is 
not  the  grand  inquisitor,  he  is  Saint- John;  but  he 
will  make  himself  Fenelon  for  you,  the  Fenelon  who 
said  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne : — "Eat  veal  on  Friday ; 
but  be  a  Christian,  monseigneur !"  ' 

"  'No,  monsieur,  the  convent  is  my  last  resource 
and  my  sole  asylum.  There  is  no  one  but  God  who 
can  comprehend  me.  No  man,  were  he  Saint- 
Augustine,  the  most  tender  of  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church,  could  enter  into  the  scruples  of  my  con- 
science, which  for  me  are  the  insurmountable  cir- 
cles of  Dante's  inferno.  Another  than  my  husband, 
another,  however  unworthy  of  this  offering  he  may 
have  been,  has  had  all  my  love !  He  has  not  had 
it,  for  he  did  not  take  it;  1  gave  it  to  him  as  a 
mother  gives  to  her  child  a  marvelous  toy,  which 
the  child  breaks.  For  me,  there  were  not  two  loves. 
Love  for  certain  souls  makes  no  attempts;  either  it 


HONORINE  93 

is,  or  it  is  not  When  it  shows  itself,  when  it  rises, 
it  is  all  complete.  Well,  this  life  of  eighteen 
months  was  for  me  a  life  of  eighteen  years,  I  brought 
to  it  all  the  faculties  of  my  being,  they  were  not  im- 
poverished by  their  effusion,  they  were  exhausted 
in  that  deceitful  intimacy  where  I  alone  was  frank. 
For  me,  the  cup  of  happiness  is  neither  emptied  nor 
empty,  nothing  can  fill  it  again,  for  it  is  broken.  I 
am  out  of  the  combat,  I  have  no  longer  any  weapons 
— After  having  thus  given  myself  up  completely, 
what  am  I  ?  the  remnant  of  a  feast.  They  gave  me 
only  one  name,  Honorine,  as  I  have  but  one  heart. 
My  husband  has  had  the  young  girl,  an  unworthy 
lover  has  had  the  woman,  there  is  nothing  left! 
Allow  myself  to  be  loved?  that  is  the  great  word 
which  you  are  going  to  say  to  me.  Oh !  I  am  still 
something,  and  I  revolt  at  the  idea  of  being  a  prosti- 
tute! Yes,  I  have  seen  clearly  in  the  light  of  the 
conflagration;  and,  yes, — I  could  conceive  of  yield- 
ing to  the  love  of  another ;  but  to  Octave  ? — oh ! 
never,' 

"  'Oh!  you  love  him,'  I  said  to  her. 

"  'I  esteem  him,  I  respect  him,  I  venerate  him,  he 
has  never  done  me  the  least  harm ;  he  is  good,  he 
is  tender;  but  I  can  no  longer  love  him — However,' 
she  said,  'let  us  speak  no  more  of  that.  Discussion 
makes  everything  little.  I  will  convey  to  you  in 
writing,  my  ideas  on  this  subject;  for,  at  this  mo- 
ment, they  suffocate  me,  I  have  a  fever,  my  feet  are 
in  the  ashes  of  my  Paraclete.  Everything  that  I  see, 
those  things  which  I  believed  I  had  won  by  my 


94  HONORINE 

labor,  recall  to  me  now  everything  that  I  wish  to 
forget.  Ah!  I  shall  have  to  fly  from  here,  as  I  went 
away  from  my  house. ' 

"'To  go  where?'  1  said.  'Can  a  woman  exist 
without  a  protector?  At  thirty,  in  all  the  glory  of 
beauty,  rich  with  forces  which  you  do  not  suspect, 
full  of  tenderness  to  bestow,  will  you  go  to  live  in 
the  desert  where  I  can  hide  you? — Remain  in  peace. 
The  count,  who  in  five  years  has  not  shown  himself 
here,  will  never  enter  here  without  your  consent 
You  have  for  a  guarantee  of  your  tranquillity,  his 
sublime  life  for  the  last  nine  years.  You  can  then 
deliberate  in  all  security  on  your  future,  with  my 
uncle  and  me.  My  uncle  is  as  powerful  as  a  Min- 
ister of  State.  Calm  yourself  then,  do  not  exagger- 
ate your  misfortune.  A  priest  whose  head  has 
grown  white  in  the  exercise  of  his  sacred  functions, 
is  not  a  child,  you  will  be  comprehended  by  one  to 
whom  all  passions  have  been  confided  for  nearly 
fifty  years,  and  who  weighs  in  his  hands  the  bur- 
dened hearts  of  kings  and  princes.  If  he  is  severe 
under  the  stole,  my  uncle  will  be,  before  your 
flowers,  as  gentle  as  they,  and  indulgent  as  his 
Divine  Master.' 

"I  left  the  countess  at  midnight,  I  left  her  in 
appearance  calm,  but  sad,  and  cherishing  secret 
dispositions  which  no  perspicacity  could  divine.  I 
found  the  count  a  few  steps  away,  in  the  RueSaint- 
Maur,  for  he  had  quitted  the  designated  locality  on 
the  boulevard,  drawn  toward  me  by  an  invincible 
force. 


HONORINE  95 

"  'What  a  night  the  poor  child  is  going  to  pass  !' 
he  cried,  when  1  had  recounted  to  him  the  scene 
which  had  just  taken  place.  'If  I  should  go  there/ 
he  said,  'if,  suddenly,  she  should  see  me?' 

"  'At  this  moment,  she  is  a  woman  to  throw  her- 
self out  of  the  window,'  I  replied.  'The  countess  is 
of  those  Lucretias  who  will  not  survive  a  violation, 
even  from  a  man  to  whom  they  have  given  them- 
selves.' 

"  'You  are  young,'  he  answered  me.  'You  do  not 
know  that  the  will,  in  a  soul  agitated  by  such  cruel 
debates,  is  like  the  waves  of  a  lake  over  which  a 
tempest  is  passing,  the  wind  changes  at  every 
moment,  and  the  current  sets  now  toward  one  shore 
and  now  toward  another.  During  this  night,  there 
are  as  many  chances  that,  on  seeing  me,  Honorine 
will  throw  herself  into  my  arms  as  that  she  will 
throw  herself  out  of  the  window.' 

"  'And  you  would  accept  this  alternative  ?'  1  asked 
him. 

"  'Come,'  he  replied,  'I  have,  at  my  house,  to  en- 
able me  to  wait  till  to-morrow  evening,  a  dose  of 
opium  which  Desplein  has  prepared  for  me  so  that 
1  may  sleep  without  danger !' 

"The  next  day,  at  noon,  the  Gobain  brought  me 
a  letter,  saying  that  the  countess,  worn  out  with 
fatigue,  had  gone  to  rest  at  six  o'clock  and  that, 
thanks  to  a  draught  of  almond-milk,  prepared  by 
the  druggist,  she  was  sleeping.  Here  is  that  let- 
ter, I  have  kept  a  copy  of  it, — for,  mademoiselle," 
said  the  consul,  addressing  Camille  Maupin,  "you 


96  HONORINE 

are  acquainted  with  the  resources  of  art,  the  tricks 
of  style,  and  the  efforts  of  very  many  writers  who  do 
not  lack  skilfulness  in  their  compositions;  but  you 
will  recognize  that  literature  would  not  know  how 
to  find  such  writings  as  this  in  its  affected  entrails; 
there  is  nothing  so  terrible  as  the  true.  See  what 
this  woman  wrote,  or,  rather,  this  sorrow: 

"'Monsieur  Maurice: 

"  'I  know  all  that  your  uncle  could  say  to  me,  he 
is  not  better  informed  than  my  conscience.  Con- 
science is  in  man  the  interpreter  for  God,  I  know 
that  if  I  do  not  reconcile  myself  with  Octave,  I  shall 
be  damned:  such  is  the  decree  of  the  religious  law. 
The  civil  law  commands  me  to  obedience,  whatever 
happens.  If  my  husband  does  not  repulse  me,  every- 
thing is  said,  the  world  will  consider  me  as  pure,  as 
virtuous,  whatever  1  may  have  done.  Yes,  marriage 
has  this  of  the  sublime  in  it,  that  society  ratifies 
the  husband's  pardon ;  but  it  has  forgotten  that  it 
is  necessary  that  the  pardon  should  be  accepted. 
On  legal,  on  religious,  on  worldly  grounds,  I  should 
return  to  Octave.  If  we  confine  ourselves  to  the 
human  question,  is  there  not  something  cruel  in 
refusing  him  happiness,  in  depriving  him  of  chil- 
dren, in  effacing  his  name  from  the  golden  book  of 
the  peerage .''  My  sorrows,  my  repugnances,  my 
sentiments,  all  my  egotism — for  I  know  myself  to  be 
egotistical — should  be  immolated  for  the  benefit  of 
the  family.  1  should  be  a  mother,  the  caresses  of 
my  children  would  dry  a  great  many  tears !    I  should 


HONORINE  97 

be  very  happy,  I  should  certainly  be  honored,  I 
should  pass  by,  proud  and  opulent,  in  a  brilliant 
equipage!  I  should  have  domestics,  a  hotel,  a  house- 
hold, I  should  be  the  queen  of  as  many  festivals  as 
there  are  weeks  in  the  year.  The  world  would  give 
me  welcome.  In  short,  I  should  not  remount  into 
the  patrician  heaven,  I  should  not  even  have 
descended  from  it.  Thus  God,  the  law,  society, 
everything  is  in  accord.  Against  what  do  you 
rebel .''  is  said  to  me  from  the  height  of  Heaven, 
from  the  pulpit,  from  the  tribunal  and  from  the 
throne,  the  august  intervention  of  which  would  be 
invoked,  if  necessary,  by  the  count.  Your  uncle 
would  even  speak  to  me,  if  it  were  required,  of  a 
certain  celestial  grace  which  would  inundate  my 
heart  when  1  should  be  conscious  of  the  pleasure  of 
having  done  my  duty.  God,  the  law,  the  world. 
Octave,  wish  that  I  should  live,  is  it  not  so.?  Well, 
if  there  be  no  other  difficulty,  my  reply  will  cut 
through  all;  I  will  not  live!  I  shall  become  very 
white,  very  innocent,  for  I  shall  be  in  my  shroud, 
adorned  with  the  irreproachable  paleness  of  death. 
There  is  not  here  the  least  obstinacy  of  a  mule. 
This  obstinacy  of  a  mule,  of  which  you  have  accused 
me,  laughingly,  is,  in  a  woman,  the  effect  of  a  cer- 
tainty, a  vision  of  the  future.  If  my  husband,  through 
love, has  the  sublime  generosity  to  forget  everything, 
I  will  not  forget,  I  will  not!  Does  forgetfulness  de- 
pend upon  us?  When  a  widow  marries,  love  makes 
her  a  young  girl,  she  marries  a  man  beloved;  but  I 
cannot  love  the  count.  Everything  is  in  that,  you 
7 


98  HONORINE 

see.  Every  time  that  my  eyes  met  his  I  should  see 
in  them  forever  my  fault,  even  when  the  eyes  of  my 
husband  were  full  of  love.  The  greatness  of  his 
generosity  would  attest  before  me  the  greatness  of 
my  crime.  My  eyes,  always  mistrustful,  would  be 
forever  reading  an  invisible  sentence.  I  should  have 
in  my  heart  confused  souvenirs  which  would  com- 
bat each  other.  Never  would  marriage  awaken  in 
my  being  the  cruel  delights,  the  mortal  delirium  of 
passion ;  I  should  kill  my  husband  by  my  coldness, 
by  comparisons  which  would  suggest  themselves, 
though  concealed  in  the  depths  of  my  consciousness. 
Oh!  on  that  day  when,  in  a  line  in  the  forehead,  in 
a  saddened  look,  in  an  imperceptible  gesture,  1 
should  perceive  some  involuntary  reproach,  even 
though  repressed,  nothing  would  retain  me; — I 
should  be  lying  with  my  head  crushed  on  a  pave- 
ment which  I  should  fmd  more  kindly  than  my  hus- 
band. This  horrible  and  gentle  death  would  perhaps 
be  entirely  due  to  my  over-sensitiveness.  I  should 
die,  perhaps,  the  victim  of  some  momentary  impa- 
tience which  an  event  had  caused  Octave,  or  de- 
ceived by  an  unjust  suspicion.  Alas!  I  might, 
perhaps,  mistake  a  proof  of  love  for  a  proof  of  con- 
tempt. What  a  double  torture!  Octave  would  be 
forever  doubting  me,  1  should  be  forever  doubting 
him.  I  should  oppose  to  him,  quite  involuntarily,  a 
rival  unworthy  of  him,  a  man  whom  I  despise,  but 
who  has  made  me  know  voluptuousnesses  engraved 
in  characters  of  fire,  of  which  I  am  ashamed,  and 
which  I  am  irresistibly  compelled  to  remember.     Is 


HONORINE  99 

this  enough  to  reveal  to  you  my  heart  ?  No  one, 
monsieur,  can  prove  to  me  that  love  recommences, 
for  I  cannot,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  accept  the  love  of 
anyone.  A  young  girl  is  like  a  flower  which  you 
have  just  plucked ;  but  the  culpable  wife  is  a  flower 
which  has  been  trodden  upon.  You  are  a  florist, 
you  should  know  if  it  be  possible  to  straighten  up 
again  this  stem,  to  revive  these  faded  colors,  to 
bring  back  the  sap  in  these  tubes  so  delicate  and  on 
the  perfect  uprightness  of  which  depends  all  vege- 
tative power. — If  some  botanist  should  give  himself 
up  to  this  operation,  would  this  man  of  genius  be 
able  to  smooth  out  the  wrinkles  of  the  rumpled  tex- 
ture.'* He  would  remake  a  flower,  he  would  be  God ! 
God  alone  can  make  me  new.  1  drink  the  bitter 
cup  of  expiation;  but,  in  drinking  it,  1  have  ter- 
ribly spelled  out  this  sentence: — To  expiate  is  not 
io  efface.  In  my  pavilion,  alone,  I  eat  a  loaf 
watered  with  my  tears;  but  no  one  sees  me  eating 
it,  no  one  sees  me  weep.  To  enter  again  Octave's 
house,  would  be  to  renounce  my  tears,  my  tears 
would  offend  him.  Oh!  monsieur,  how  many  vir- 
tues would  it  not  be  necessary  to  tread  under  foot 
in  order,  not  to  give  one's  self,  but  to  yield  one's 
self,  to  a  husband  whom  one  has  deceived!* — who 
can  count  them .-'  God  only,  for  He  only  is  the 
confidant  and  He  it  is  who  prompts  in  our  hearts 
these  terrible  sensitivenesses,  which  might  make 
even  His  angels  turn  pale.  Ah!  I  will  even  go  fur- 
ther. A  wife  has  courage  before  a  husband  who 
knows  nothing;  she  displays  then  in  her  hypocrisies 


100  HONORINE 

an  untamed  strength,  she  deceives  in  order  to  give 
a  double  happiness.  But  a  mutual  certainty,  is 
it  not  debasing?  For  myself,  I  should  exchange 
humiliations  for  ecstasies.  Would  not  Octave  end 
by  finding  depravity  in  my  consentings?  Mar- 
riage is  founded  on  esteem,  on  sacrifices  made  on 
one  side  and  the  other;  but  neither  Octave  nor  I 
can  foretell  the  future  of  our  reunion:  he  will  dis- 
honor me  by  some  old  man's  love  for  a  courtesan; 
and  I,  I  should  have  the  perpetual  shame  of  being  a 
thing  instead  of  being  a  lady.  I  should  not  be  vir- 
tue, I  should  be  pleasure  in  my  household.  These 
are  the  bitter  fruits  of  a  fault.  I  have  made  myself 
a  conjugal  bed  in  which  I  can  only  turn  myself  on 
live  coals,  a  bed  in  which  there  is  no  slumber. 
Here,  I  have  hours  of  peacefulness,  hours  in  which 
I  forget;  but,  in  my  own  hotel,  everything  would 
recall  to  me  the  stain  which  dishonors  my  wife's 
robe.  When  I  suffer  here,  I  bless  my  sufferings, 
I  say  to  God:  Thanks!  But  in  his  house,  I  should 
be  full  of  fright,  tasting  joys  which  are  not  my 
due.  All  this,  monsieur,  is  not  reasoning,  it  is 
the  conviction  of  a  soul  greatly  experienced,  for 
it  has  been  furrowed  for  seven  years  by  pain. 
Finally,  should  I  make  to  you  this  frightful  avowal .' 
I  feel  my  breasts  forever  bitten  by  an  infant  con- 
ceived in  intoxication  and  joy,  in  the  belief  in 
happiness,  by  an  infant  which  I  nourished  during 
seven  months,  of  which  I  shall  be  pregnant  all  my 
life.  If  new  infants  should  draw  from  me  their  nour- 
ishment, they  would  drink  tears  which,  mingled  with 


HONORINE  lOI 

my  milk,  would  turn  them  sour.  I  am  apparently 
light-hearted,  1  seem  to  you  childish — Oh!  yes  I 
have  the  memory  of  the  child,  that  memory  that 
renews  itself  on  the  edge  of  the  tomb.  Thus,  as 
you  see,  there  is  not  one  situation  in  the  beautiful 
life  to  which  the  world  and  the  love  of  a  husband 
wish  to  bring  me  back,  which  is  not  false,  which 
does  not  conceal  snares  for  me,  which  does  not  open 
before  me  precipices  over  which  I  should  roll,  torn 
by  pitiless  crags.  It  is  now  five  years  that  I  have 
been  wandering  in  the  barren  wastes  of  my  future 
without  finding  there  a  suitable  place  for  my  repent- 
ance, because  my  soul  has  been  taken  possession  of 
by  a  true  repentance.  To  all  this,  religion  has  its 
replies,  and  I  know  them  by  heart.  These  suffer- 
ings, these  difficulties,  are  my  punishment,  it  says, 
and  God  will  give  me  the  strength  to  support  them. 
This,  monsieur,  is  a  reason  for  certain  pious  souls, 
endowed  with  an  energy  in  which  I  am  wanting. 
Between  the  hell  in  which  God  will  not  prevent  me 
from  blessing  him,  and  the  hell  which  waits  for  me 
in  the  house  of  Comte  Octave,  my  choice  is  made. 
"  'One  last  word.  If  1  were  a  young  girl,  and  were 
it  not  for  my  actual  experience,  I  would  still  choose 
my  husband ;  but  this  is  precisely  the  reason  for  my 
refusal, — I  do  not  wish  to  blush  before  this  man. 
What!  I  should  be  always  on  my  knees,  he  would 
be  always  standing  before  me!  And,  if  we  changed 
our  positions,  I  should  find  him  despicable.  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  better  treated  by  him  because  of  my 
fault.     The  angel  who  would  dare  to  commit  certain 


I02  HONORINE 

brutalities  that  are  permitted  on  both  sides  when 
they  are  mutually  irreproachable,  that  angel  does 
not  exist  on  earth ;  he  is  in  Heaven !  Octave  is  full 
of  delicacy,  I  know  it;  but  there  do  not  exist  in  that 
soul — however  grand  they  may  make  it,  it  is  still  a 
man's  soul — any  guarantees  for  the  new  existence 
which  I  should  lead  in  his  house.  Come  then  to  tell 
me  where  I  can  fmd  that  solitude,  that  peace,  that 
silence,  the  friends  of  irreparable  misfortunes,  which 
you  have  promised  me?' 

"After  having  taken  of  this  letter  the  copy  which 
you  see,  so  as  to  keep  this  memorial  complete,  I  went 
to  the  Rue  Payenne.  Anxiety  had  overcome  the 
power  of  the  opium.  Octave  was  walking  up  and 
down  like  a  madman  in  his  garden. 

"  'Reply  to  that,'  I  said  to  him,  giving  him  his 
wife's  letter.  'Endeavor  to  reassure  modesty  that 
is  instructed.  It  is  somewhat  more  difficult  than  to 
circumvent  modesty  that  is  ignorant  of  itself,  which 
curiosity  delivers  up  to  you.' 

"  'She  is  mine!'— cried  the  count,  whose  counte- 
nance expressed  his  happiness  in  proportion  as  he 
progressed  in  his  reading. 

"He  made  me  a  sign  with  his  hand  to  leave  him 
alone,  feeling  himself  watched  in  his  joy.  1  com- 
prehended that  excessive  happiness,  like  excessive 
sorrow,  obeys  the  same  laws;  I  went  to  receive 
Madame  de  Courteville  and  Amelie,  who  were  to 
dine  with  the  count  that  day.  However  beautiful 
Mademoiselle  de  Courteville  may  have  been,  I  was 


HONORINE  103 

conscious,  on  seeing  her  again,  that  love  has  three 
faces,  and  that  the  women  who  inspire  in  us  a  com- 
plete love  are  very  rare.  While  comparing  involun- 
tarily Amelie  with  Honorine,  I  found  more  charm  in 
the  wife  in  fault  than  in  the  pure  young  maid.  For 
Honorine,  fidelity  was  not  duty,  but  the  fatality  of 
the  heart;  whilst  Amelie  was  about  to  take  the  most 
solemn  promises  with  a  serene  air,  without  knowing 
either  their  range  or  their  obligations.  The  ex- 
hausted wife,  reputed  dead,  the  penitent  sinner  to 
be  lifted,  seemed  to  me  sublime,  she  excited  the 
natural  generosities  of  man,  she  demanded  of  the 
heart  all  its  treasures,  of  the  strength,  all  its  re- 
sources; she  filled  life,  she  brought  into  it  a  contest 
in  the  happiness;  while  Amelie,  chaste  and  confid- 
ing, would  enclose  herself  in  the  sphere  of  a  peace- 
ful maternity,  where  the  commonplace  should  be 
poetical,  where  my  spirit  would  find  neither  com- 
bat nor  victory. 

"Between  the  plains  of  La  Champagne  and  the 
snowy  and  tempestuous  but  sublime  Alps,  where  is 
the  young  man  who  would  choose  the  chalky  and 
peaceful  level  ?  No,  such  comparisons  are  fatal  and 
evil  on  the  threshold  of  the  mayor's  office.  Alas !  it  is 
necessary  to  have  had  experience  with  life  to  know 
that  marriage  excludes  passion,  that  the  family 
should  in  no  wise  be  founded  upon  the  storms  of  love. 
After  having  dreamed  of  an  impossible  love  with 
its  innumerable  ideal  delights,  after  having  tasted 
the  cruel  deliciousness  of  the  ideal,  I  had  before  my 
eyes  a  modest  reality.    What  would  you  have;  give 


104  HONORINE 

me  your  pity!  At  the  age  of  twenty-five,  1  had 
doubts  of  myself;  but  I  took  a  virile  resolution.  I 
went  in  search  of  the  count  again,  under  the  pretext 
of  informing  him  of  the  arrival  of  his  cousins  and  I 
found  him  become  young  again  in  the  reflection  of 
his  hopes. 

"  'What  is  it,  Maurice?'  he  asked  me,  struck  with 
the  alteration  in  my  looks. 

"  'Monsieur  le  Comte — ' 

"  'You  no  longer  call  me  Octave!  you  to  whom  I 
shall  owe  life,  happiness — ' 

"  'My  dear  Octave,  if  you  succeed  in  bringing 
the  countess  back  to  her  obligations,  I  have  care- 
fully observed  her — '  he  looked  at  me  as  Othello 
must  have  looked  at  lago,  when  lago  had  succeeded 
in  communicating  the  first  suspicion  to  the  Moor — 
'she  should  never  see  me  again,  she  should  be  igno- 
rant that  you  have  had  Maurice  for  a  secretary; 
never  pronounce  my  name,  let  no  one  recall  me, 
otherwise,everything  will  be  lost. — You  have  caused 
me  to  be  named  referendary;  well,  obtain  for  me 
some  diplomatic  post  abroad,  a  consulate,  and  think 
no  more  about  marrying  me  to  Amelie — Oh!  have 
no  fears,'  I  went  on,  as  I  saw  him  start,  'I  will  carry 
out  my  part  to  the  end — ' 

"  'Poor  fellow !' — he  said  to  me,  taking  me  by  the 
hand,  pressing  it,  and  suppressing  the  tears  which 
moistened  his  eyes. 

"  'You  gave  me  gloves,'  I  replied,  laughing,  'I  did 
not  put  them  on,  that  is  all.' 

"We  then  came  to  an  agreement  as  to  what  1 


HONORINE  105 

should  do  that  evening  at  the  pavilion,  to  which  I 
returned  at  the  end  of  the  day.  It  was  then  the 
month  of  August,  the  day  had  been  warm,  stormy, 
but  the  storm  had  remained  in  the  air,  the  sky  was 
like  brass,  the  perfumes  of  the  flowers  were  heavy, 
I  seemed  to  be  in  a  sweating-chamber,  and  sur- 
prised myself  wishing  that  the  countess  had  gone 
to  the  Indies;  but  she  was  wearing  a  redingote  of 
white  muslin  trimmed  with  knots  of  blue  ribbons, 
without  a  headdress,  her  crisp  curls  falling  down 
the  sides  of  her  cheeks,  and  seated  on  a  wooden 
bench  made  in  the  shape  of  a  settee,  under  a  sort 
of  little  grove,  her  feet  on  a  little  wooden  stool, 
and  showing  a  few  inches  below  her  dress.  She  did 
not  rise,  she  indicated  to  me  with  her  hand  a  place 
near  her,  saying  to  me: 
"  'Is  not  life  without  any  outlook  for  me?' 
"'The  life  that  you  have  made  for  yourself,'  I 
said  to  her,  'but  not  that  which  I  wish  to  make 
for  you;  for,  if  you  wish  it,  you  may  be  very 
happy — ' 

"  'And  how?'  she  asked. 
"Ail  her  body  asked  the  question. 
"  'Your  letter  is  in  the  hands  of  the  count' 
"Honorine  rose  like  a  startled  fawn,  sprang  away 
three  steps,  walked  about,  taking  turns  in  her  gar- 
den,  remained   standing  for  a  few  moments,  and 
finally  went  to  take  a  seat  alone  in  her  salon,  where 
I  rejoined  her  when  I  had  left  her  a  little  time  in 
which  to  accustom  herself  to  the  pain  of  this  dagger- 
stroke. 


I06  HONORINE 

"  'You!  a  friend! — Say  rather  a  traitor,  some  spy 
for  my  husband,  perhaps?' 

"  Instinct,  in  women,  is  the  equal  of  the  perspi- 
cacity of  the  greatest  men. 

"  'An  answer  was  required  for  your  letter,  was 
there  not?  and  there  was  only  one  man  in  the  world 
who  could  write  it — You  will  then  read  the  reply, 
dear  countess,  and,  if  you  do  not  find  any  outlook 
for  your  life  after  this  reading,  the  spy  will  prove  to 
you  that  he  is  a  friend,  for  I  will  put  you  in  a  convent 
whence  the  count's  power  will  never  wrest  you; 
but,  before  going  there,  let  us  hear  the  other  side. 
There  is  a  law,  divine  and  human,  which  hatred 
itself  feigns  to  obey,  and  which  commands  not  to 
condemn  without  hearing  the  defence.  You  have, 
up  to  the  present,  condemned,  like  the  children, 
while  stopping  your  ears.  A  devotion  of  seven 
years  has  its  rights.  You  will  then  read  the  reply 
which  your  husband  will  make.  I  have  sent  to  him 
by  my  uncle  the  copy  of  your  letter,  and  my  uncle 
has  asked  him  what  his  reply  would  be  if  his  wife 
should  write  him  a  letter  conceived  in  similar  terms. 
Thus  you  are  in  no  way  compromised.  The  good 
man  will  himself  bring  the  count's  letter.  Before 
this  holy  man  and  before  me,  through  respect  for 
yourself,  you  should  read  it,  or  you  would  be  only  a 
rebellious  and  angry  child.  You  will  make  this 
sacrifice  to  the  world,  to  the  law,  to  God.' 

"As  she  did  not  see  in  compliance  any  affront 
to  her  woman's  will,  she  consented.  All  this  labor 
of  four  or  five  months  had  been  built  up  for  this 


HONORINE  107 

moment.  But  do  not  the  pyramids  terminate  by  a 
point  upon  which  a  bird  can  balance  itself? — The 
count  rested  all  his  hopes  on  this  supreme  hour, 
and  he  had  finally  reached  it.  I  do  not  know  any- 
thing, in  all  the  memories  of  my  life,  more  formi- 
dable than  the  entrance  of  my  uncle  into  this  Pompa- 
dour salon  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening.  That 
head,  whose  silver  hair  was  set  off  by  garments  all 
of  black,  and  that  countenance  of  a  divine  calm, 
produced  a  magic  effect  upon  the  Comtesse  Hono- 
rine;  she  felt  the  freshness  of  a  balm  upon  her 
wounds,  she  was  enlightened  by  a  reflection  of 
that  virtue,  brilliant  but  unconscious, 

"'Monsieur  le  Cure  des  Blancs-Manteaux!'  said 
the  Gobain. 

"  'Do  you  come,  my  dear  uncle,  with  a  message 
of  peace  and  of  happiness.-"  I  asked  him. 

" 'Happiness  and  peace  will  always  be  found  in 
observing  the  commands  of  the  Church,'  he  replied, 
presenting  the  countess  with  the  following  letter: 

'"My  dear   HONORINE, 

**  'If  you  had  done  me  the  kindness  not  to  doubt 
me,  if  you  had  read  the  letter  which  I  wrote  you 
five  years  ago,  you  would  have  spared  yourself  five 
years  of  useless  toil  and  of  privations  which  have 
afflicted  me.  I  then  proposed  to  you  a_compact,  the 
stipulations  of  which  would  have  destroyed  all  your 
fears  and  rendered  possible  our  domestic  life.  I 
have  many  reproaches  to  address  to  myself,  and  I 
have  become  conscious  of  all  my  faults  in  seven 


I08  HONORINE 

years  of  grief.  I  misunderstood  marriage.  I  was 
not  able  to  suspect  the  danger  when  it  threatened 
you.  An  angel  was  in  my  house,  the  Lord  had  said 
to  me:  Guard  her  well !  the  Lord  has  punished  the 
rashness  of  my  confidence.  You  cannot  give  your- 
self a  single  blow  without  striking  me.  Have  com- 
passion on  me,  my  dear  Honorine!  1  have  so  well 
comprehended  your  sensitiveness  that  I  have  not 
been  willing  to  bring  you  back  to  the  old  hotel  of 
the  Rue  Payenne,  in  which  I  can  live  without  you, 
but  which  I  should  not  want  to  see  again  with  you. 
I  am  adorning  with  pleasure  another  house  in  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  into  which  1  conduct,  in 
anticipation,  not  a  wife  whom  I  owe  to  her  ignor- 
ance of  life,  duly  acquired  by  law,  but  a  sister  who 
will  permit  me  to  deposit  on  her  forehead  the  kiss 
which  a  father  gives  to  a  daughter  daily  blessed. 
Will  you  deprive  me  of  the  right  which  I  believed 
myself  to  have  conquered  from  your  despair,  that  of 
watching  most  closely  over  your  needs,  over  your 
pleasures,  over  your  life  even.?  Women  have  a 
heart  of  their  own,  always  full  of  excuses,  that  of 
their  mother;  you  have  never  known  any  other 
mother  than  mine,  who  would  have  brought  you 
back  to  me;  but  how  is  it  that  you  have  not  divined 
that  I  have  for  you  the  heart  both  of  my  mother  and 
of  your  own !  Oh !  Dear,  my  affection  is  neither 
petty  nor  caviling,  it  is  of  those  which  do  not  allow 
to  contradiction  even  time  enough  to  wrinkle  the 
countenance  of  an  adored  child.  For  whom  do  you 
take  the  companion  of  your  infancy,  Honorine,  in 


HONORINE  109 

believing  him  capable  of  accepting  kisses  given  in 
trembling,  of  sharing  joy  and  mistrust?  Do  not  fear 
that  you  may  have  to  endure  the  lamentations  of  a 
mendicant  passion.  I  have  not  wished  for  you  until 
after  having  assured  myself  of  the  power  of  leaving 
to  you  your  complete  liberty.  Your  solitary  pride  has 
exaggerated  the  difficulties ;  you  could  share  the  life 
of  a  brother  or  of  a  father,  without  suffering  and 
without  joy,  if  you  wished;  but  you  would  find 
around  you  neither  mocking  nor  indifference,  nor 
misconstruing  of  intentions.  The  warmth  of  the 
atmosphere  in  which  you  live  shall  be  always 
equable  and  mild,  without  storms,  without  possible 
disturbances.  If,  later,  after  having  acquired  the 
certainty  of  being  in  your  home  as  you  are  in  your 
pavilion,  you  should  be  willing  to  introduce  in  it 
other  elements  of  happiness,  pleasures,  diversions, 
you  will  enlarge  the  circle  at  your  will.  The  ten- 
derness of  a  mother  has  neither  disdain  nor  pity; 
what  is  it.?  love  without  desire; — well,  in  me,  ad- 
miration will  conceal  all  the  sentiments  in  which 
you  might  see  offences.  We  may  thus  be  able  to 
hold  ourselves  nobly,  side  by  side.  In  you,  the 
kindness  of  a  sister,  the  caressing  spirit  of  a  friend, 
will  be  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  ambition  of  him  who 
wishes  to  be  your  companion,  and  you  may  measure 
his  tenderness  by  the  efforts  which  he  makes  to 
conceal  it  from  you.  We  shall  have,  neither  of  us, 
any  uneasiness  concerning  our  past,  for  we  can 
recognize  in  each  other  sufficient  intelligence  to 
look  ahead  of  us  only.     Therefore,  you  will  be  in 


no  HONORINE 

your  own  house,  in  your  hotel,  everything  that  you 
are  in  the  Rue  Saint-Maur, — inviolable,  solitary, 
occupied  as  3^ou  please,  governed  by  your  own  laws ; 
but  you  will  have,  moreover,  a  lawful  protection 
which  will  then  be  under  obligations  to  display  for 
you  the  most  chivalric  love,  and  that  consideration 
which  adds  so  much  lustre  to  women,  and  a  fortune 
which  will  permit  you  to  undertake  so  many  good 
works.  Honorine,  when  you  wish  a  useless  abso- 
lution, you  will  come  and  ask  for  it;  it  will  not  be 
imposed  upon  you,  either  by  the  Church  or  by  the 
Code;  it  will  depend  entirely  upon  your  pride,  upon 
your  own  volition.  My  wife  might  have  to  fear  all 
that  which  terrifies  you,  but  not  the  friend  or  the 
sister  toward  whom  I  shall  hold  myself  constrained 
to  display  all  the  manners  and  all  the  considerations 
of  politeness.  To  see  you  happy  will  suffice  for  my 
contentment,  I  have  proved  it  during  seven  years. 
Ah!  the  guarantees  of  my  word,  Honorine,  are  in 
all  the  flowers  which  you  have  made,  preciously 
kept,  watered  by  my  tears,  and  which  are,  like  the 
quipos  of  the  Peruvians,  a  history  of  our  sorrows. 
If  this  secret  compact  does  not  content  you,  my 
child,  I  have  requested  the  holy  man  who  carries 
this  letter,  not  to  say  a  word  in  my  favor.  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  indebted  for  your  return  either  to  the 
terrors  impressed  upon  you  by  the  Church,  or  to 
the  commands  of  the  Law.  I  wish  to  receive  only 
from  yourself  the  simple  and  modest  happiness 
which  I  ask.  If  you  persist  in  imposing  upon  me 
the  sombre  life,  deprived  of  any  fraternal  smile, 


HONORiNE  III 

which  I  have  led  for  nine  years,  if  you  remain  in 
your  desert,  solitary  and  unmoved,  my  will  will 
give  way  before  yours.  Be  sure  of  this, — you  will 
not  be  molested  any  more  than  you  have  been  until 
to-day.  I  will  give  his  dismissal  to  that  lunatic 
who  has  interfered  in  your  affairs,  and  who  perhaps 
has  vexed  you — ' 

"'Monsieur,'  said  Honorine,  interrupting  her 
letter,  which  she  put  in  her  corsage,  and  looking  at 
my  uncle,  'I  thank  you,  I  will  take  advantage  of  the 
permission  which  Monsieur  le  Comte  has  given  me 
to  remain  here — ' 

"•Ah!'  I  exclaimed. 

"This  exclamation  procured  me  from  my  uncle 
an  unquiet  look,  and  from  the  countess  a  malicious 
glance  which  enlightened  me  as  to  her  motives. 
Honorine  had  wished  to  know  if  I  were  an  actor,  a 
bird-catcher,  and  1  had  the  sorrowful  satisfaction 
of  deceiving  her  by  my  exclamation,  which  was 
one  of  those  cries  of  the  heart  which  women  know 
so  well. 

"  'Ah!  Maurice,'  she  said  to  me,  'you  know  how 
to  love,  you  do !' 

"The  light  which  shone  in  my  eyes  was  another 
response  which  would  have  dissipated  the  count- 
ess's distrust,  if  she  had  had  any  still.  Thus  the 
count  was  served  by  me  up  to  the  last  moment 
Honorine  then  resumed  her  letter  from  her  husband, 
to  finish  it.     My  uncle  made  me  a  sign,  I  rose. 

"  'We  will  leave  madame,'  he  said  to  me. 


112  HONORINE 

"  'Are  you  going  already,  Maurice?'  she  inquired 
of  me  without  looking  at  me. 

"She  rose,  followed  us  out,  still  reading,  and  on 
the  threshold  of  the  pavilion  she  took  my  hand, 
pressed  it  very  affectionately,  and  said  to  me : 

"  'We  shall  see  each  other  again — ' 

"  'No,'  I  replied,  grasping  her  hand  till  she  cried 
out.  'You  love  your  husband!  To-morrow,  I  go 
away.* 

"And  I  fled  precipitately,  leaving  my  uncle,  to 
whom  she  said : 

"  'What  is  the  matter  with  your  nephew.?' 

"The  poor  abbe  completed  my  task  by  making 
the  gesture  of  indicating  his  head  and  his  heart  as 
if  to  say:  'He  is  crazy,  you  must  excuse  him, 
madame!'  with  much  more  truthfulness  than  he 
thought.  Six  days  later,  I  set  off  with  my  appoint- 
ment as  vice-consul  in  Spain,  in  a  large  commercial 
city,  where  I  could  in  a  short  time  qualify  myself 
for  the  consular  career,  to  which  1  limited  my  ambi- 
tion. After  my  installation,  I  received  this  letter 
from  the  count: 

"  'MY  DEAR  Maurice, 

"  'If  I  were  happy,  I  would  in  no  wise  write  to 
you;  but  I  have  commenced  another  life  of  pain, — I 
have  become  young  again  through  desire,  with  ail 
the  impatiences  of  a  man  who  has  passed  forty, 
with  the  wisdom  of  the  diplomat  who  knows  how  to 
moderate  his  passion.  When  you  went  away,  I  was 
not  yet  admitted  to  the  pavilion  in  the  Rue  Saint- 


MONOKINE  AND  MAURICE. 


"'On  the  threshold  of  the  pavilion  she  took  viy 
hand,  pressed  it  very  affectionately,  and  said  to  nic  : 

"'We  shall  see  each  other  again — ' 

No'  I  replied,  grasping  her  hand  till  she  cried 
out.  '  Von  love  yonr  liusband !  To-morrow  I  o-n 
away!  " 


■p  ■■  HP vHPV.'||  - 


*    .-tNT 


^?^  ■■■■  ^%  i^'-i  .-iiyi^   _  ^, 


,/^x 


•  -7.  ■■■-^ 


y^ii'i?^ 


o^- 


*^^^ 


^'     "7 


HONORINE  113 

Maur;  but  a  letter  had  promised  me  the  permission 
to  go  there,  the  gentle  and  melancholy  letter  of  a 
woman  who  dreads  the  emotions  of  an  interview. 
After  having  waited  more  than  a  month,  I  risked 
presenting  myself,  asking  through  the  Gobain  if  I 
should  be  received.  I  seated  myself  on  a  chair  in 
the  avenue,  near  the  lodge,  my  head  in  my  hands, 
and  1  remained  there  nearly  an  hour. 

"  '  "Madame  wishes  to  dress,"  said  the  Gobain  to 
me  in  order  to  conceal  under  a  feminine  coquetry 
which  should  be  creditable  to  me,  Honorine's  irreso- 
lutions. '  ' 

"  'During  a  long  quarter  of  an  hour  we  had  been, 
each  of  us,  affected  by  an  involuntary  nervous 
trembling,  as  strong  as  that  which  seizes  the  orators 
on  the  stand,  and  we  addressed  to  each  other  fright- 
ened phrases,  like  people  surprised  who  make  a  pre- 
tence of   conversation. 

"'"See  Honorine,"  I  said  to  her,  my  eyes  full 
of  tears,  "the  ice  is  broken,  and  I  am  so  trem- 
bling with  happiness  that  you  must  forgive  the 
incoherence  of  my  language.  It  will  be  so  for  a 
long  time." 

"  '  "It  is  not  a  crime  to  be  in  love  with  your 
wife,"  she  replied  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  '  "Do  me  the  favor  not  to  work  any  more  as  you 
have  done.  1  know  from  Madame  Gobain  that  you 
have  been  living  for  the  last  twenty  days  on  your 
savings,  you  have  sixty  thousand  francs  income  of 
your  own,  and,  if  you  will  not  give  me  your  heart, 
at  least  do  not  leave  me  your  fortune." 
8 


114  HONORINE 

" '  "I  have  known  your  kindness  for  a  long 
time — "  she  said. 

"  '  "If  it  pleases  you  to  remain  here,"  1  replied, 
"and  to  preserve  your  independence;  if  the  most 
ardent  love  does  not  find  favor  in  your  eyes,  do  not 
work  any  more — " 

"  'I  presented  her  with  three  certificates  each  of 
twelve  thousand  francs  interest,  she  took  them, 
opened  them  indifferently,  and,  after  having  read 
them,  Maurice,  she  gave  me  a  look  for  sole  reply. 
Ah !  she  comprehended  perfectly  that  it  was  not 
money  which  I  gave  her,  but  liberty. 

"  '  "I  am  vanquished,"  she  said  to  me,  extending 
to  me  a  hand  which  I  kissed,  "come  to  see  me  as 
often  as  you  wish." 

"  'Thus  she  had  only  received  me  by  doing  vio- 
lence to  herself.  The  next  day  I  found  her  armed 
with  a  counterfeit  gaiety,  and  it  has  required  two 
months  of  accustoming  before  seeing  her  in  her  true 
character.  But  this  was  then  like  a  delicious  May, 
a  springtime  of  love  which  gave  me  ineffable  joys; 
she  had  no  more  fears,  she  studied  me.  Alas !  when 
I  proposed  to  her  to  go  over  to  England  with  me  in 
order  to  join  me  ostensibly,  in  her  house,  to  resume 
her  rank,  to  live  in  her  new  hotel,  she  was  seized 
with  terror. 

"  '  "Why  not  live  always  this  way?"  she  said. 

"  'I  resigned  myself  without  a  word. 

"  '  "Is  this  an  experiment?"  I  asked  myself  as  I 
left  her. 

"  'In  going  from  my  own  house  to  the  Rue  Saint- 


HONORINE  115 

Maur,  I  became  animated,  thoughts  of  love  swelled 
my  heart,  and  I  said  to  myself,  like  the  young 
men: 

"  '  "This  evening  she  will  yield — " 

"  'All  this  strength,  factitious  or  real,  was  dissi- 
pated by  a  smile,  by  a  command  in  her  eyes,  proud 
and  calm,  which  passion  never  changed.  That  ter- 
rible saying  which  you  repeated:  Lticretia  ivrote 
with  her  blood  and  her  dagger  the  first  word  of  the 
charter  of  women, — LIBERTY,  came  back  to  me, 
chilled  me.  I  was  profoundly  convinced  of  the 
necessity  of  the  consent  of  Honorine,  and  of  the  im- 
possibility of  wresting  it  from  her.  Did  she  have 
any  suspicion  of  those  storms  which  agitated  me  as 
well  during  the  return  as  during  the  going .?  I  finally 
depicted  to  her  my  situation  in  a  letter,  renouncing 
speaking  to  her  about  it.  Honorine  did  not  reply  to 
me,  she  remained  so  mournful  that  I  acted  as  if 
I  had  not  written.  I  was  greatly  pained  at  having 
afflicted  her,  she  read  in  my  heart  and  forgave  me. 
You  shall  know  how.  Three  days  ago,  for  the 
first  time,  she  received  me  in  her  white  and  blue 
chamber.  The  room  was  full  of  flowers,  adorned, 
illuminated.  Honorine  had  assumed  a  toilet  which 
made  her  ravishing.  Her  hair  enclosed  with  its 
light  rolls  that  face  which  you  know;  on  her  head 
she  wore  some  tufts  of  Cape  heather ;  she  wore  a 
dress  of  white  muslin,  a  white  girdle  with  long 
floating  ends.  You  knew  what  she  is  in  this 
simplicity;  but,  on  this  day,  she  was  a  bride,  she 
was  the    Honorine   of  the   early   days.       My   joy 


Il6  HONORINE 

was  immediately  frozen,  for  iier  countenance  had 
a  cliaracter  of  terrible  gravity,  there  was  fire  under 
that  ice. 

"  *  "Octave,"  she  said  to  me,  "when  you  wish 
it,  I  will  be  your  wife;  but,  know  it  well,  this  sub- 
mission has  its  dangers,  I  can  resign  myself — " 

"  *I  made  a  gesture. 

"'"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  understand  you,  resigna- 
tion offends  you,  and  you  wish  that  which  I  can- 
not give,  love!  Religion,  compassion,  have  caused 
me  to  renounce  my  vow  of  solitude,  you  are 
here!" 

"  'She  made  a  pause. 

"'"In  the  first  place,"  she  went  on,  "you  did 
not  ask  more;  now,  you  want  your  wife.  Well, 
I  give  up  to  you  Honorine,  such  as  she  is,  and 
without  deceiving  you  as  to  what  she  will  be. 
What  shall  1  become  ?  A  mother !  I  wish  it.  Oh ! 
believe  it,  I  wish  it  sincerely.  Endeavor  to  trans- 
form me,  I  consent  to  it;  but  if  I  die,  my  friend, 
do  not  curse  my  memory,  and  do  not  accuse  of 
obstinacy  that  which  I  should  call  the  worship  of 
the  ideal,  if  it  were  not  more  natural  to  call  the 
indefinable  sentiment  which  will  kill  me,  the 
worship  of  the  divine!  The  future  does  not  con- 
cern me,  it  is  you  who  are  charged  with-  it,  take 
counsel  I — " 

"  'She  then  seated  herself  in  that  serene  attitude 
which  you  have  admired,  and  looked  at  me  growing 
pale  under  the  pain  which  she  had  caused  me. 
My  blood  was  chilled.     When  she  saw  the  effect  of 


HONORINE  117 

her  words,  she  took  my  hands,  placed  them  in  her 
own  and  said  to  me: 

"  '  "Octave,  I  love  you,  but  in  another  manner 
than  that  in  which  you  wish  to  be  loved;  I  love 
your  soul — But,  know  it,  I  love  you  enough  to  die 
in  your  service,  like  an  Eastern  slave,  and  without 
regret.     This  will  be  my  expiation." 

"  'She  did  more,  she  placed  herself  on  her  knees 
on  a  cushion  before  me,  and,  in  an  accession  of 
divine  charity,  she  said  to  me: 

"  '  "After  all,  perhaps  1  shall  not  die?—" 

"  'Here  are  the  words  with  which  I  wrestle. 
What  can  I  do? — My  heart  is  too  full,  1  have  sought 
that  of  a  friend  to  throw  into  it  this  cry:  What 
can  I  do  ?' 

"I  made  no  reply.  Two  months  later,  the  news- 
paper announced  the  arrival,  by  an  English  packet- 
boat,  of  the  Comtesse  Octave,  restored  to  her 
family,  after  a  voyage,  the  events  of  which  were 
invented  with  a  sufficient  plausibility  to  be  con- 
tested by  no  one.  On  my  arrival  at  Genoa,  I 
received  a  letter  announcing  the  happy  accouche- 
ment of  the  countess,  who  presented  her  husband 
with  a  son.  I  held  the  letter  in  my  hands  for 
two  hours,  on  that  terrace  seated  on  that  bench. 
Two  months  later,  tormented  by  Octave,  by  Mes- 
sieurs de  Granville  and  Serizy,  my  protectors, 
overwhelmed  by  the  loss  of  my  uncle,  I  consented 
to  marry. 

"Six   months   after   the   Revolution    of    July,    I 


Il8  HONORINE 

received  the  following  letter,  which  concludes  the 
history  of  this  household: 

"  'MONSIEUR  Maurice, 

"  'I  am  dying,  although  a  mother,  and  perhaps 
because  1  am  a  mother.  I  have  played  well  my  part 
as  wife ;  I  have  deceived  my  husband,  1  have  had 
joys  as  real  as  the  tears  shed  on  the  stage  by 
actresses.  I  die  for  society,  for  the  family,  for 
marriage,  as  the  first  Christians  died  for  God.  I  do 
not  know  of  what  I  am  dying,  I  seek  for  it  in  good 
faith,  for  I  am  not  obstinate;  but  I  desire  to  explain 
to  you  my  malady,  to  you  who  brought  the  heavenly 
surgeon,  your  uncle,  to  whose  words  I  yielded  my- 
self; he  has  been  my  confessor,  1  took  care  of  him 
in  his  last  illness,  and  he  showed  Heaven  to  me  in 
commanding  me  to  continue  to  do  my  duty.  And  I 
have  done  my  duty.  I  do  not  blame  those  who 
forget,  I  admire  them  as  strong  natures,  necessary 
ones;  but  I  have  the  infirmity  of  remembering! 
That  love  of  the  heart  which  we  identify  with  the 
man  loved,  I  have  not  been  able  to  feel  twice.  Up 
to  the  last  moment,  as  you  know,  I  cried  in  your 
heart,  in  the  confessional,  to  my  husband:  Have 
pity  on  me! — Everything  was  without  pity.  Well, 
I  am  dying.  I  die  in  displaying  an  unheard-of 
courage.  Never  was  courtesan  more  gay  than  1. 
My  poor  Octave  is  happy,  I  allow  his  love  to  feed 
itself  on  the  mirages  of  my  heart  In  this  terri- 
ble game,  I  expend  all  my  forces,  the  actress  is 
applauded,    feted,    covered   with  flowers;   but  the 


HONORINE  119 

invisible  rival  comes  to  seek  every  day  his  prey, 
a  portion  of  my  life.  Torn  apart,  I  smile!  I  smile 
on  two  children,  but  the  eldest,  the  dead  one, — 
triumphs!  I  have  already  said  it  to  you, — the  dead 
child  will  call  me,  and  I  go  to  him.  Intimacy  with- 
out love  is  a  situation  in  which  my  soul  dishonors 
itself  every  hour.  1  can  neither  weep  nor  abandon 
myself  to  my  reveries  but  when  alone.  The  require- 
ments of  the  world,  those  of  my  household,  the  care 
of  my  child,  that  of  the  happiness  of  Octave,  do  not 
leave  me  an  instant  in  which  to  renew  my  strength, 
to  acquire  new  forces  as  I  did  in  my  solitude.  The 
perpetual  qui-vive  always  surprises  my  heart  with  a 
start.  I  have  not  in  the  least  been  able  to  fix  in  my 
soul  that  vigilance  of  the  quick  ear,  of  the  lying 
word,  of  the  lynx  eye.  It  is  not  a  beloved  mouth 
which  drinks  my  tears  and  which  blesses  my 
eyelids,  it  is  a  handkerchief  which  stanches  them; 
it  is  water  which  refreshes  my  inflamed  eyes,  and 
not  beloved  lips.  I  am  a  comedienne  with  my  soul ; 
and  this  is  perhaps  why  I  die !  I  suppress  my  grief 
with  so  much  care  that  nothing  of  it  appears  on  the 
outside;  it  has  indeed  to  devour  something,  it  at- 
tacks my  life.  I  said  to  the  doctors  who  discovered 
my  secret: 

"'"Make  me  die  of  some  plausible  malady; 
otherwise,  I  shall  drag  my  husband  with  me." 

"  'It  is  then  agreed,  between  Messieurs  Desplein, 
Bianchon  and  myself  that  I  am  dying  of  the  soften- 
ing of  some  bone,  I  do  not  know  which,  that  science 
has  perfectly  described.     Octave  believes  himself 


120  HONORINE 

adored !  Do  you  understand  me  perfectly  ?  Thus 
I  am  afraid  that  he  will  follow  me.  I  write  to  you 
to  entreat  you  to  be,  in  that  case,  the  guardian  of 
the  young  count.  You  will  find  enclosed  a  codicil  in 
which  I  express  this  wish:  you  will  only  make  use 
of  it  when  it  becomes  necessary,  for  perhaps  I  am 
foolishly  mistaken.  My  concealed  devotion  will 
perhaps  leave  Octave  inconsolable,  but  living! 
Poor  Octave!  I  wish  for  him  a  wife  better  than  I 
am,  for  he  indeed  deserves  to  be  loved.  Since  my  so 
clever  spy  is  married,  let  him  remember  that  which 
the  fair  florist  of  the  Rue  Saint-Maur  here  bequeaths 
him  as  a  testament, — See  that  your  wife  is  very  soon 
a  mother !  Throw  her  into  the  most  commonplace 
materialities  of  the  household;  prevent  her  from 
cultivating  in  her  heart  the  mysterious  flower  of  the 
ideal,  that  celestial  perfection  in  which  I  have  be- 
lieved, that  enchanted  flower  with  burning  colors, 
and  the  perfume  of  which  inspires  disgust  for  real- 
ities. I  am  a  Saint-Theresa  who  can  nourish  her- 
self only  with  ecstasies,  in  the  depth  of  a  convent 
with  the  Divine  Jesus,  with  an  irreproachable  angel, 
winged,  so  as  to  come  and  go  at  pleasure.  You 
have  seen  me  happy  in  the  midst  of  my  well-beloved 
flowers.  I  have  not  told  you  all ;  I  saw  love  flour- 
ishing under  your  feigned  madness,  I  concealed  from 
you  my  thoughts,  my  poesies;  I  did  not  give  you 
entrance  into  my  beautiful  kingdom.  Finally  you 
will  love  my  child  for  the  love  of  me,  if  he  should 
be  left  some  day  without  his  poor  father.  Guard  my 
secrets  as  the  tomb  will  guard  me.     Do  not  weep 


HONORINE  121 

for  me:  I  have  been  dead  a  long  time,  if  Saint- 
Bernard  was  right  in  saying  that  there  is  no  more 
life  where  there  is  no  more  love." 

"And,"  said  the  consul,  folding  his  letters  and 
locking  his  portfolio  with  a  key,  "the  countess  is 
dead." 

"Is  the  count  still  living?"  asked  the  ambassa- 
dor, "for,  since  the  Revolution  of  July,  he  has  dis- 
appeared from  political  life." 

"Do  you  remember.  Monsieur  de  Lora,"  said  the 
consul-general,  "of  having  seen  me  conducting  back 
to  the  steamer — ?" 

"A  man  with  white  hair,  an  old  man?"  asked 
the  painter. 

"An  old  man  of  forty-five,  going  in  quest  of  health, 
of  diversions,  to  southern  Italy.  This  old  man,  he 
was  my  poor  friend,  my  protector,  who  passed 
through  Genoa  to  say  adieu  to  me,  to  confide  to  me 
his  testament — He  appoints  me  the  guardian  of  his 
son.  I  was  not  under  the  necessity  of  telling  him  of 
Honorine's  wish." 

"Is  he  aware  of  his  character  of  assassin?"  said 
Mademoiselle  des  Touches  to  the  Baron  de  I'Hostal. 

"He  suspects  the  truth,"  replied  the  consul,  "and 
it  is  that  which  is  killing  him.  I  remained  on  the 
steamer  which  is  carrying  him  to  Naples  until  we 
were  in  the  roadstead;  there  was  a  barque  to  bring 
me  back.  We  remained  for  some  time  exchanging 
our  farewells,  which,  I  fear,  will  be  eternal.  God 
knows  how  we  love  the  confidant  of  our  love,  when 


122  HONORINE 

she  who  has  inspired  it  is  no  more!  'That  man  has 
a  charm,'  said  Octave  to  me,  'he  wears  an  aureole.' 
When  we  came  out  on  the  prow,  the  count  looked 
at  the  Mediterranean ;  as  it  happened,  the  weather 
was  fine,  and,  doubtless,  moved  by  this  spectacle, 
he  left  me  these  last  words:  'In  the  interest  of 
human  nature,  would  it  not  be  necessary  to  investi- 
gate that  irresistible  power  which  makes  us  sacrifice 
to  the  most  fleeting  of  all  pleasures,  and  against  our 
reason,  a  divine  creature  ? — 1  have  heard  cries  in  my 
conscience.  Honorine  was  not  the  only  one  who 
cried.  And  yet  I  wished! — I  am  devoured  byre- 
morse!  I  died,  in  the  Rue  Payenne,  of  the  pleas- 
ures which  I  had  not;  I  shall  die  in  Italy  of  the 
pleasures  which  I  have  tasted ! — Whence  comes  this 
discord  between  two  natures  equally  noble,  I  dare 
tosav?'" 

A  profound  silence  prevailed  on  the  terrace  for 
some  moments. 

"Was  she  virtuous.'"'  asked  the  consul  of  the  two 
ladies. 

Mademoiselle  des  Touches  rose,  took  the  consul  by 
the  arm,  led  him  off  for  a  few  steps,  and  said  to 
him: 

"Are  not  men  also  culpable  to  come  to  us,  to 
make  of  a  young  girl  a  wife,  while  keeping  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts  angelic  images,  comparing  us 
to  unknown  rivals,  to  perfections  often  drawn  from 
more  than  one  memory,  and  then  finding  us  always 
inferior?" 

"Mademoiselle,  you  would  be  right  if  marriage 


HONORINE  123 

were  founded  on  passion,  and  this  was  the  error  of 
the  two  beings  who  soon  will  both  be  no  more. 
Marriage,  with  a  heart's  love  between  the  two 
spouses,  that  would  be  paradise." 

Mademoiselle  des  Touches  left  the  consul  and  was 
rejoined  by  Claude  Vignon,  who  said  to  her  in  her 
ear: 

"He  is  somewhat  vain  and  silly.  Monsieur  de 
I'Hostal." 

"No,"  she  replied,  slipping  in  Claude's  ear  this 
sentence,  "he  has  not  yet  discovered  that  Honorine 
would  have  loved  him.  Oh!"  she  said,  seeing  the 
consul's  wife  coming,  "his  wife  has  heard  him,  the 
unfortunate  man! — " 

Eleven  o'clock  was  sounded  by  the  clocks,  all  the 
guests  returned  on  foot,  along  the  sea  beach. 

"All  that  is  not  life,"  said  Mademoiselle  des 
Touches.  "That  woman  is  one  of  the  rarest  excep- 
tions, and  perhaps  the  most  monstrous  of  intelli- 
gences, a  pearl !  Life  is  composed  of  various 
accidents,  of  sorrow  and  pleasures  alternated.  The 
Paradise  of  Dante,  that  sublime  expression  of  the 
ideal,  that  constant  blue,  is  found  only  in  the  soul, 
and  to  demand  it  of  the  things  of  life  is  a  voluptu- 
ousness against  which  nature  protests  every  hour. 
For  such  souls,  the  six  feet  of  a  cell  and  a  prie-Dieu 
suffice." 

"You  are  right, "said  Leon  de  Lora.  "But,  how- 
ever much  of  a  good-for-nothing  I  may  be,  I  cannot 
restrain  my  admiration  for  a  woman  capable,  as  was 
that  one,  of  living  by  the  side  of  an  atelier,  under 


124  HONORINE 

the  roof  of  a  painter,  without  ever  descending,  or 
seeing  the  world,  or  getting  muddy  in  the  streets." 

"That  has  been  seen  for  a  few  months  at  a  time," 
said  Claude  Vignon  with  a  profound  irony. 

"The  Comtesse  Honorine  is  not  the  only  one  of 
her  kind,"  replied  the  ambassador  to  Mademoiselle 
des  Touches.  "A  man,  we  will  even  say  a  man  of 
politics,  a  bitter  writer,  was  the  object  of  a  love  of 
this  kind,  and  the  pistol-shot  that  killed  him  touched 
only  him:  she  whom  he  loved  was  as  if  cloistered." 

"There  are  still  to  be  found,  then,  great  souls  in 
this  century!"  said  Camille  Maupin,  remaining 
thoughtful,  leaning  against  the  quay  for  several 
minutes. 

Paris,  January,  1843. 


COLONEL  CHABERT 


(125) 


TO   MADAME   LA    COMTESSE  IDA   DE   BOCARMi, 
NEE  DU  CHASTELER 


(127) 


l»-!;TlJW'tei 


iiiii:Bej:;>  >  ■  ■v,aiuSl)Mill,yi,,u;JaSJ:51S!;ililil!E^3yi!;l;lliila 


W8IS,i 


^A. 


\  I 


\.^ 


COLONEL   CHABERT  AT  M.  DERVILLE'S. 


"  Well,"  said  the  colonel  with  a  movement  of  con- 
centrated rage,  "  /  zvas  not  admitted  until  I  had 
announced  myself  under  a  borroivcd  name,  and  the 
day  on  ivhich  I  took  my  07un,  I  was  shozvn  out  of 
her  door.  *  *  *  Oh!  from  that  day  /  have 
lived  for  vengeance','  cried  the  old  man  in  a  muffled 
voice,  and  rising  suddenly  before  Derville.  "  She 
knows  that  I  am  living." 


IN   THE  RUE  DU  EOUARRE. 


"  You  shojild  dress  yourself  more  ivarvdy  ivhen 
yoiL  go  dozvn  to  that  parlor." 

"  /  do   not  like  to  keep  them  zuaiiing,  those  poor 
people  !      Well,  ivhat  is  it  that  yon  ivish  of  vie  /  " 

"  VVliy,  I  conic  to  invite  yon  to  dinner  to-morroiv 
at  the  house  of  the  Marqidse  d'Espard^ 
******* 
"And  you  ivant   me  to  go  and  dine  with  her! 
Are  you  crazy  ?  "  said  the  Judge. 


THE  INTERDICTION 


* 


In  the  year  1828,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, two  men  came  out  of  a  hotel  in  the  Rue  du 
Faubourg-Saint-Honore,  near  the  Elysee-Bourbon: 
one  of  them  was  a  celebrated  physician,  Horace 
Bianchon,  the  other,  one  of  the  most  elegant  men  in 
Paris,  the  Baron  de  Rastignac,  and  they  were  old 
friends.  Each  had  dismissed  his  own  carriage,  and 
there  were  no  others  to  be  found  in  the  Faubourg, 
but  the  night  was  fine  and  the  pavement  dry. 

"Let  us  walk  as  far  as  the  boulevard,"  said 
Eugene  de  Rastignac  to  Bianchon,  "you  can  get  a 
carriage  at  the  Club;  they  are  to  be  found  there  till 
morning.     You  will  accompany  me  to  my  door." 

"Willingly." 

"Well,  my  dear  fellow,  what  do  you  say  about  it?" 

"About  that  woman?"  replied  the  doctor,  coldly. 

"There  I  recognize  my  Bianchon,"  cried  Ras- 
tignac. 

"Well,  what?" 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  speak  of  the  Marquise 
d'Espard  as  of  a  patient  to  be  placed  in  your  hos- 
pital." 

(233) 


234  THE   INTERDICTION 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  what  I  think,  Eugene?  If 
you  leave  Madame  de  Nucingen  for  this  marchion- 
ess, you  will  barter  your  one-eyed  horse  for  a  blind 
one." 

"Madame  de  Nucingen  is  thirty-six  years  old, 
Bianchon. " 

"And  this  one  is  thirty-three,"  replied  the  doctor, 
quickly. 

"Her  most  vindictive  enemies  would  not  make 
her  more  than  twenty-six." 

"My  dear  fellow,  when  you  are  interested  in  dis- 
covering a  woman's  age,  look  at  her  temples  and  the 
end  of  her  nose.  Whatever  the  women  may  accom- 
plish with  their  cosmetics,  they  can  do  nothing 
against  these  incorruptible  witnesses  of  their  expe- 
riences. Each  one  of  their  years  has  left  there  its 
stigmata.  When  a  woman's  temples  are  softened, 
lined,  withered  in  a  certain  manner;  when  at  the 
end  of  her  nose  you  may  find  those  little  points 
which  resemble  the  imperceptible  black  particles 
which  settle  down  in  London  from  the  chimneys  in 
which  soft  coal  is  burned — by  your  leave !  the  lady 
is  over  thirty.  She  may  be  beautiful,  she  may  be 
charming,  she  may  be  loving,  she  may  be  every- 
thing that  you  could  wish;  but  she  will  have  passed 
thirty,  but  she  is  reaching  her  maturity.  I  do  not 
blame  those  who  attach  themselves  to  a  woman  of 
this  kind;  only,  a  man  as  distinguished  as  you  are 
should  not  take  a  rennet  of  February  for  a  little  api 
apple  which  smiles  upon  its  branch  and  asks  to 
be  bitten.       Love    never  goes  to  consult  the  civil 


THE  INTERDICTION  235 

registers;  no  one  loves  a  woman  because  she  is 
of  such  or  such  an  age,  because  she  is  beautiful 
or  ugly,  stupid  or  witty:  one  loves  because  one 
loves." 

"Well  now,  I,  1  love  her  for  very  different 
reasons.  She  is  Marquise  d'Espard,  she  was  born 
a  Blamont-Chauvry,  she  is  the  fashion,  she  has  a 
soul  in  her,  she  has  a  foot  as  pretty  as  that  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  she  has  perhaps  an  income  of  a 
hundred  thousand  francs,  and  I  shall  perhaps  marry 
her  some  day!  finally,  she  will  enable  me  to  pay 
my  debts." 

"I  thought  you  were  rich,"  said  Bianchon,  inter- 
rupting Rastignac. 

"Bah!  I  have  an  income  of  twenty  thousand 
francs,  just  enough  to  keep  a  stable.  1  have  been 
broken  up,  my  dear  fellow,  in  the  affair  of  Monsieur 
de  Nucingen,  I  will  relate  that  history  to  you.  I 
have  married  off  my  sisters,  that  is  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage I  have  gained  since  we  have  known  each 
other,  and  I  am  better  pleased  to  have  established 
them  than  if  I  had  a  hundred  thousand  ecus  of  in- 
come. Now  then,  what  do  you  wish  that  I  should 
become?  I  am  ambitious.  To  what  could  Madame 
de  Nucingen  lead  me  ?  In  a  year  from  now,  I  should 
be  labeled,  pigeon-holed,  like  a  married  man.  I 
have  all  the  disadvantages  of  marriage  and  those  of 
a  bachelor,  without  having  the  advantages  of  either ; 
a  false  situation,  to  which  come  all  those  who  re- 
main too  long  attached  to  the  same  petticoat." 

"Ah!  and  you  think  that  here  you  have  a  sure 


236  THE   INTERDICTION 

thing?"  said  Bianchon.  "Your  marchioness,  my 
dear  fellow,  is  not  at  all  to  my  taste." 

"Your  liberal  opinions  cloud  your  judgment  If 
Madame  d'Espardwere  a  Madame  Rabourdin — ." 

"Listen  to  me,  my  dear  fellow,  noble  or  bour- 
geoise,  she  would  always  be  soulless,  she  would 
always  be  the  most  complete  type  of  egotism.  Be- 
lieve me,  the  doctors  are  accustomed  to  judge  men 
and  things;  the  most  skilful  among  us  confess  the 
soul  in  confessing  the  body.  Notwithstanding  that 
pretty  boudoir  in  which  we  have  passed  the  even- 
ing, notwithstanding  the  luxury  of  that  hotel,  it  is 
possible  that  Madame  la  Marquise  is  in  debt." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"I  do  not  assert  it,  I  make  the  supposition.  She 
speaks  of  her  soul  as  the  late  Louis  XVIII.  spoke  of 
his  heart.  Listen  to  me!  this  woman,  frail,  white, 
with  her  chestnut  hair,  and  who  complains  that  she 
may  hear  herself  pitied,  enjoys  a  robust  health, 
has  an  appetite  like  a  wolf,  the  strength  and  the 
treachery  of  a  tiger.  Never  was  gauze,  or  silk,  or 
muslin,  more  skilfully  wrapped  around  a  lie!  Ecco." 

"You  terrify  me,  Bianchon!  You  have  then 
learned  a  great  many  things  since  our  sojourn  in 
the  Vauquer  establishment?" 

"Yes,  since  that  time,  my  dear  fellow,  I  have  seen 
puppets,  dolls  and  dancing-jacks!  I  know  a  little 
about  the  manners  of  these  beautiful  ladies,  the 
health  of  whose  bodies  you  guard,  and  that  which 
they  have  still  more  precious,  their  children,  when 
they  love  them,  and  their  faces,  which  they  always 


THE  INTERDICTION  237 

adore.  You  pass  your  nights  at  their  bedsides, 
you  wear  yourself  out  to  save  them  the  slightest 
alteration  of  their  beauty,  no  matter  where;  you 
have  succeeded,  you  keep  the  secret  as  if  you  were 
dead,  they  send  to  you  for  their  bill,  and  find  it 
horribly  dear.  What  is  it  that  has  saved  them? 
Nature.  Far  from  commending  you,  they  slander 
you,  fearing  that  you  may  become  the  physician  of 
their  dear  friends.  My  dear  fellow,  these  women, 
of  whom  you  say,  'They  are  angels!'  I,  I  have 
seen  them  stripped  of  the  little  appearances  under 
which  they  cover  their  souls,  as  well  as  of  the  dress 
under  which  they  disguise  their  imperfections,  with- 
out their  manners  and  without  their  corsets, — they 
are  not  beautiful.  We  began  by  seeing  a  great 
many  shoals,  a  great  many  filthy  things  under  the 
waves  of  the  world  when  we  were  cast  ashore  on 
the  rock  of  the  Vauquer  establishment;  that  which 
we  saw  there  was  nothing.  Since  1  have  been 
going  into  the  higher  society,  I  have  encountered 
monstrosities  clothed  in  satins,  Michonneaus  in 
white  gloves,  Poirets  bespangled  with  orders,  grand 
seigneurs  practising  usury  better  than  Papa  Gob- 
seek!  To  the  shame  of  mankind,  when  1  have 
wished  to  clasp  hands  with  Virtue,  1  have  found  her 
shivering  in  a  garret,  pursued  by  slander,  living 
from  hand  to  mouth  on  fifteen  hundred  francs  of 
income  or  of  wages,  and  considered  either  as  crazy, 
or  original,  or  stupid.  In  short,  my  dear  fellow, 
the  marchioness  is  a  fashionable  woman,  and  it  is 
precisely  that  kind  of  woman  that  I  hold  in  horror. 


238  THE   INTERDICTION 

Do  you  wish  to  know  why  ?     A  woman  who  has 
a  lofty  mind,  a  pure  taste,  a  gentle  spirit,  a  heart 
richly  endowed,  who  leads  a  simple  life,  has   not 
the  slightest  chance  of  being  in  the  fashion.      That 
is   why!      A   fashionable    woman   and   a   man    in 
power  have  certain  analogies;  but  with  this  differ- 
ence nearly,  that  the  qualities  which  enable  a  man 
to  elevate  himself  above  the  others  enlarge  him  and 
constitute  his  glory;  whilst  the  qualities  by  which 
a  woman  attains  her  empire  of  a  day  are  frightful 
vices:  she  perverts  herself  to  conceal  her  character, 
she  must— to  lead  this  contentious  worldly  life — 
have  an  iron  health  under  a  frail  appearance.     As 
a  physician,  I  know  that  the  goodness  of  the  stomach 
excludes  the  goodness  of  the  heart.     Your  fashion- 
able woman  has  no  feeling,  her  fury  for  pleasure 
has  its  origin  in  a  desire  to  warm  up  her  cold  nature, 
she  wishes  to  have  emotions  and  enjoyments,  just 
as  an  old  man  stations  himself  on  the  stairway  at 
the  Opera.     As  she  has  more  head  than  heart,  she 
sacrifices  to   her   triumph   true   passions   and   her 
friends,  as  a  general  sends  into  the  enemy's  fire  his 
most  devoted  lieutenants  that  he  may  gain  the  bat- 
tle.    The  fashionable  woman  is  no  longer  a  woman ; 
she  is  neither  mother,  nor  wife,  nor  lover, — she  has 
a  sex  in  her  brain,  speaking  medically.     Thus  your 
marchioness  has  all  the  symptoms  of  her  monstros- 
ity, she  has  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey,  the  clear  and 
cold  eye,  the  soft  speech;  she  is  polished  like  the 
steel  of  a  piece  of  machinery,  she  excites  every- 
thing, excepting  the  heart," 


THE   INTERDICTION  239 

"There  is  some  truth  in  what  you  say,  Bianchon. " 
"Some truth?"  replied  Bianchon.  "It  is  all  true. 
Do  you  think  that  I  did  not  feel  to  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  the  insulting  politeness  with  which  she 
caused  me  to  measure  the  imaginary  distance  which 
rank  puts  between  us  ?  that  I  was  not  moved  by  a 
profound  contempt  for  her  cattish  blandishments  in 
knowing  her  aim  ?  In  a  year  from  now,  she  would 
not  write  a  word  to  do  me  the  slightest  service,  and 
this  evening  she  overwhelmed  me  with  smiles, 
thinking  that  I  can  influence  my  uncle  Popinot,  on 
whom  the  gaining  of  her  lawsuit  depends — " 

"My  dear  fellow,  would  you  have  preferred  that 
she  had  shown  you  nothing  but  stupidities  ?  I  admit 
the  facts  of  your  Catiline  oration  against  fashion- 
able women;  but  you  are  quite  beside  the  question. 
I  should  always  prefer  for  a  wife  a  Marquise  d'Es- 
pard  to  the  most  chaste,  the  most  refined,  the  most 
loving  creature  on  earth.  Marry  an  angel!  you 
would  have  to  go  and  bury  yourself  in  your  happi- 
ness in  the  depths  of  the  country.  The  wife  of  a 
political  man  is  a  governmental  machine,  a  mechan- 
ism for  fine  compliments,  for  curtsies;  she  is  the 
first,  the  most  faithful  of  the  instruments  of  which 
an  ambitious  man  can  make  use;  in  short,  she  is  a 
friend  who  can  compromise  herself  without  danger, 
and  whom  you  can  repudiate  without  fear  of  conse- 
quences. Suppose  Mohammed  were  in  Paris  in  the 
nineteenth  century !  his  wife  would  be  a  Rohan, 
fine  and  flattering  as  an  ambassadress,  shrewd  as 
Figaro.     Your  loving  wife  would  lead  to  nothing,  a 


240  THE  INTERDICTION 

fashionable  woman  would  lead  to  everything,  she 
is  the  diamond  with  which  a  man  cuts  all  window 
panes,  when  he  has  not  the  golden  key  which  opens 
all  doors.  For  the  bourgeois,  the  bourgeois  virtues; 
for  the  ambitious,  the  vices  of  ambition.  Moreover, 
my  dear  fellow,  do  you  not  suppose  that  the  love  of 
a  Duchesse  de  Langeais  or  De  Maufrigneuse,  of  a 
Lady  Dudley,  does  not  bring  with  it  immense 
pleasures  ,•'  If  you  knew  how  the  cold  and  severe 
reserve  of  these  women  gives  a  value  to  the  least 
proof  of  their  affection !  what  joy  to  see  a  periwinkle 
lying  under  the  snow!  A  smile  glancing  under  the 
fan  gives  the  lie  to  the  reserve  of  an  assumed  atti- 
tude, and  it  is  worth  all  the  unbridled  tendernesses 
of  your  bourgeoises  with  their  hypothetical  devotion, 
— for,  in  love,  devotion  is  very  near  to  speculation. 
Then,  a  fashionable  woman,  a  Blamont-Chauvry 
has  her  virtues  also!  Her  virtues  are  fortune, 
power,  state,  a  certain  scorn  for  everything  which 
is  below  her — " 

"Thanks,"  said  Bianchon. 

"You  old  simpleton!"  answered  Rastignac,  laugh- 
ing. "Come  now,  do  not  be  commonplace,  do  like 
your  friend  Desplein, — be  a  baron,  be  a  Chevalier 
of  the  Order  of  Saint  Michael,  become  peer  of  France, 
and  marry  your  daughters  to  dukes." 

"1,  I  wish  that  the  five  hundred  thousand 
devils — " 

"La,  la!  you  have  no  superiority  then  excepting 
in  medicine;  truly  you  give  me  great  pain," 

"1  hate  this   sort  of   people,  I  could  wish  for  a 


THE   INTERDICTION  24 1 

revolution  that  would  deliver  us  from  them  for- 
ever." 

"Therefore,  dear  Robespierre  of  the  lancet,  you 
will  not  go  to-morrow  to  your  uncle  Popinot's?" 

"Oh!  yes,"  said  Bianchon,  "when  you  are  con- 
cerned, 1  would  go  to  seek  water  in  hell — " 

"Dear  friend,  you  melt  me;  I  have  sworn  that 
the  marquis  should  be  interdicted!  Wait  a  minute^ 
I  shall  fmd  an  old  tear  with  which  to  thank  you." 

"But,"  said  Horace,  continuing,  "I  do  not  promise 
you  to  succeed  according  to  your  desires  with  Jean- 
Jules  Popinot.  You  do  not  know  him ;  but  1  will  bring 
him  the  day  after  to-morrow  to  your  marchioness, 
she  may  beguile  him  if  she  can.  I  doubt  it.  All  the 
truffles,  all  the  duchesses,  all  the  mistresses,  all  the 
axes  of  the  guillotine  may  be  there  in  all  the  grace 
of  their  seductions;  the  king  may  promise  him  the 
peerage,  the  good  God  may  grant  him  the  investi- 
ture of  Paradise  and  the  revenues  of  Purgatory, — 
not  one  of  these  inducements  would  persuade  him 
to  pass  a  straw  from  one  scale  to  the  other  of  his 
balance.     He  is  a  judge,  as  Death  is  Death." 

The  two  friends  had  by  this  time  arrived  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs,  at  the 
corner  of  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines. 

"Here  you  are  at  your  door,"  said  Bianchon, 
laughing,  indicating  to  him  the  hotel  of  the  minister. 
"And  here  is  my  carriage,"  he  added,  pointing  to  a 
hackney  coach.  "Thus  is  the  future  summed  up 
for  both  of  us." 

"You  will  be  happy  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
16 


242  THE   INTERDICTION 

while  I  shall  be  always  struggling  on  the  surface 
with  the  tempests  until,  when  I  sink,  I  shall  come 
to  ask  a  place  too  in  your  grotto,  old  friend!" 

"Till  Saturday,"  replied  Bianchon. 

"Agreed,"  said  Rastignac.  "You  promise  me 
the  Popinot?" 

"Yes,  I  will  do  all  that  my  conscience  will  permit 
me  to  do.  Perhaps  this  petition  for  an  interdiction 
conceals  some  little  dramorama,  to  recall  by  a  word 
our  bad  good  time." 

"Poor  Bianchon!  he  will  never  be  more  than  an 
honest  man,"  said  Rastignac  to  himself,  as  he  saw 
the  hackney  coach  disappear. 

"Rastignac  has  charged  me  with  the  most  difficult 
of  all  the  negotiations,"  thought  Bianchon  when  he 
rose  the  next  morning,  remembering  the  delicate 
commission  which  had  been  confided  to  him.  "But 
I  have  never  asked  of  my  uncle  the  least  little  ser- 
vice at  the  Palais,  and  I  have  made  for  him  more 
than  a  thousand  visits  gratis.  Moreover,  between 
ourselves,  we  feel  no  restraint.  He  will  answer  me 
yes  or  no,  and  that  will  be  all." 

After  this  little  monologue,  the  celebrated  doctor 
took  his  way,  after  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
towards  the  Rue  du  Fouarre,  in  which  lived  Mon- 
sieur Jean- Jules  Popinot,  judge  of  the  inferior  court 
for  civil  causes  of  the  department  of  the  Seine. 
The  Rue  du  Fouarre,  a  name  which  signified  formerly 
Rue  de  la  Paille,  was  in  the  thirteenth  century  the 
most  illustrious  street  in  Paris.  In  it  were  the 
schools  of  the  University  at  the  period  when  the 


THE   INTERDICTION  243 

voice  of  Abelard  and  that  of  Gerson  resounded 
through  the  world  of  learning.  It  is  to-day  one  of 
the  dirtiest  streets  of  the  twelfth  arrondissement,  the 
poorest  quarter  of  Paris,  that  in  which  two-thirds  of 
the  population  lack  for  wood  in  winter,  that  which 
throws  most  brats  into  the  turning-box  of  the  Found- 
ling Hospital,  most  patients  into  the  Hotel-Dieu, 
most  beggars  into  the  streets,  which  sends  the 
greatest  number  of  rag-pickers  to  the  corners  of 
the  gutters,  the  greatest  number  of  invalid  old  men 
to  sun  themselves  along  the  walls,  the  greatest 
number  of  unemployed  workmen  into  the  public 
squares,  the  greatest  number  of  accused  to  the  cor- 
rectional police.  In  the  middle  of  this  always  damp 
street,  the  gutter  of  which  rolls  toward  the  Seine 
the  blackish  waters  of  some  dyeing  establishments, 
is  situated  an  old  house,  doubtless  restored  under 
Francois  I.,  and  constructed  of  bricks  retained  by 
quoins  of  cut  stone.  Its  solidity  seems  to  be  at- 
tested by  an  exterior  configuration  which  is  not  un- 
common in  some  houses  in  Paris.  If  it  be  permitted 
to  make  use  of  the  word,  it  has  something  like  a 
belly  produced  by  the  swelling  out  of  its  first  story, 
sinking  under  the  weight  of  the  second  and  the  third, 
but  sustained  by  the  strong  wall  of  the  ground  floor. 
At  the  first  glance  it  would  seem  that  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  windows,  although  strengthened  by  their 
borders  in  cut  stone,  would  burst  out;  but  the  spec- 
tator soon  perceives  that,  in  this  house  as  in  the 
tower  of  Bologna,  the  old  bricks  and  the  old  stones 
worn  away  still  preserve  invincibly  their  centre  of 


244  THE  INTERDICTION 

gravity.  At  all  seasons  of  the  year,  the  solid  courses 
of  the  ground  floor  present  the  yellowish  tone  and 
the  imperceptible  oozing  which  dampness  gives  to 
stone.  The  pedestrian  has  a  chill  in  passing  along 
this  wall  the  sloping  edges  of  which  protect  it  but 
indifferently  against  the  wheels  of  the  cabriolets. 
As  in  all  the  houses  built  before  the  invention  of 
carriages,  the  opening  of  the  door  forms  an  extremely 
low  archway,  similar  enough  to  the  portal  of  a 
prison.  At  the  right  of  this  doorway  are  three 
windows  protected  on  the  exterior  by  an  iron  net- 
ting so  close  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  curious  to 
see  the  interior  arrangement  of  the  damp  and  dark 
apartments,  all  the  more  so  that  the  window  panes 
are  dirty  and  dusty;  at  the  left  are  two  other  win- 
dows like  these,  one  of  which,  sometimes  open,  re- 
veals the  porter,  his  wife  and  his  children  swarming 
about,  working,  cooking,  eating  and  crying  in  an 
apartment  floored  with  planks,  wainscoted,  in  which 
everything  is  falling  off  in  shreds  and  into  which  you 
descend  by  two  steps, — a  depth  which  seems  to  in- 
dicate the  progressive  raising  of  the  Parisian  pave- 
ment. If,  on  some  rainy  day,  some  passer-by 
takes  shelter  under  the  long  vault  with  protecting 
and  whitewashed  rafters,  which  leads  from  the  door 
to  the  stairway,  it  would  be  difficult  for  him  not  to 
look  in  on  the  scene  which  the  interior  of  this  house 
presents.  At  the  left  will  be  seen  a  little  square 
garden  which  would  not  permit  you  to  make  more 
than  four  strides  in  any  direction,  a  garden  of  black 
earth  in  which  there  are  trellises  without  any  vine 


THE  INTERDICTION  245 

branches,  in  which,  in  default  of  vegetation,  there 
are  in  the  shade  of  the  two  trees  scraps  of  paper, 
old  cloths,  potsherds,  rubbish  fallen  from  the  roof; 
an  unfertile  land  in  which  time  has  deposited  upon 
the  walls,  upon  the  trunks  of  the  trees  and  their 
boughs,  a  powdery  substance  not  unlike  cold  soot. 
The  two  square  main  buildings  which  constitute  the 
house  are  lighted  from  this  little  garden,  surrounded 
by  the  two  neighboring  houses  built  with  upright 
joists  in  the  partitions,  decrepit,  menacing  ruin,  in 
which  may  be  seen  on  each  floor  some  curious  in- 
dication of  the  profession  or  vocation  of  the  lodger. 
Here,  there  are  long  sticks  supporting  immense 
skeins  of  dyed  wool  drying;  there,  on  a  cord,  are 
white  shirts  hanging ;  higher,  rows  of  books  newly 
backed  display  upon  a  board  their  freshly  marbled 
edges;  the  women  sing,  the  husbands  whistle,  the 
children  cry;  the  cabinet-maker  saws  his  planks,  a 
coppersmith  makes  his  metal  resound, — all  these 
industries  combine  to  produce  a  noise  which  the 
number  of  instruments  renders  outrageous.  The 
general  system  of  the  interior  decoration  of  this 
passage,  which  is  neither  a  court,  nor  a  garden,  nor 
a  vault,  and  which  partakes  of  all  these,  consists 
of  wooden  pillars  supported  upon  square  pedestals 
of  stone  and  which  form  ogive  arches.  Two 
arcades  open  on  the  little  garden;  two  others,  which 
face  the  porte-cochere,  allow  a  wooden  stairway  to 
be  seen,  the  rail  of  which  was  formerly  a  marvel  of 
ironsmith's  work,  so  grotesque  are  the  forms  given 
to  the  metal,  and  of  which   the  worn   steps  now 


246  THE   INTERDICTION 

shake  under  foot.  The  doors  of  each  apartment 
have  casings  brown  with  dirt,  with  grease  and  with 
dust,  and  are  furnished  with  double  doors  covered 
with  Utrecht  velvet  fastened  with  nails  disposed  in 
lozenges  and  which  have  lost  their  gilding.  These 
remnants  of  splendor  announce  that  under  Louis 
XIV.,  this  house  was  inhabited  by  some  councillor 
of  Parliament,  by  rich  ecclesiastics,  or  by  some  State 
treasurer.  But  these  vestiges  of  ancient  luxury  now 
bring  a  smile  to  the  lips  by  the  ingenuous  contrast 
which  they  offer  between  the  present  and  the  past. 
Monsieur  Jean-Jules  Popinot  lived  on  the  first  floor 
of  this  house,  where  the  want  of  light  natural  to 
the  first  floors  of  Parisian  houses  was  doubled  by 
the  narrowness  of  the  street  This  ancient  dwelling 
was  known  to  the  whole  of  the  twelfth  arrondisse- 
ment,  to  whom  Providence  had  given  this  magistrate 
as  it  gives  a  beneficent  plant  to  cure  or  to  moderate 
every  malady.  Here  is  a  sketch  of  this  personage 
whom  the  brilliant  Marquise  d'Espard  wished  to 
seduce : 

hi  his  character  as  magistrate.  Monsieur  Popinot 
was  always  clothed  in  black,  a  costume  which  con- 
tributed toward  rendering  him  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  those  accustomed  to  judge  everything  by  a  super- 
ficial examination.  Men  who  are  jealous  to  pre- 
serve the  dignity  which  this  vestment  imposes 
should  be  able  to  submit  to  the  most  minute  and 
continual  carefulness ;  but  the  dear  Monsieur  Popinot 
was  incapable  of  maintaining  upon  himself  the  Pu- 
ritanical   cleanliness   which   black   requires.       His 


THE   INTERDICTION  247 

pantaloons,  always  well  worn,  resembled  crape,  a 
stuff  of  which  the  robes  of  advocates  are  made,  and 
his  habitual  attitude  caused  such  a  multitude  of 
creases  in  them  that  there  might  be  seen  in  places 
lines  whitish,  reddish  or  shining  which  revealed 
either  a  sordid  avarice  or  the  most  heedless  poverty. 
His  heavy  woolen  stockings  puckered  in  his  shape- 
less shoes.  His  linen  had  that  rusty  tone  which  is 
contracted  by  a  long  sojourn  in  the  wardrobe,  and 
which  announced  that  the  late  Madame  Popinot  had 
a  certain  mania  for  linen;  according  to  the  Flemish 
method,  she  doubtless  gave  herself  only  twice  a 
year  the  trouble  of  a  washing  with  lye.  The  coat 
and  the  waistcoat  of  the  magistrate  were  in  harmony 
with  the  pantaloons,  the  shoes,  the  stockings  and 
the  linen.  He  found  a  constant  success  in  his  care- 
lessness, for,  the  very  day  on  which  he  put  on  a  new 
coat  he  brought  it  into  appropriateness  with  the  rest 
of  his  toilet  by  getting  spots  upon  it  with  an  inex- 
plicable promptness.  The  good  man  waited  until 
his  cook  apprised  him  of  the  shabbiness  of  his  hat 
before  procuring  a  new  one.  His  cravat  was 
always  twisted  without  any  preparation  whatever, 
and  never  did  he  repair  the  disorder  which  his 
judge's  band  had  occasioned  in  his  tumbled  shirt 
collar.  He  took  no  care  of  his  gray  hair,  and  shaved 
only  twice  a  week.  He  never  wore  gloves,  and 
buried  his  hands  habitually  in  his  empty  pockets, 
the  soiled  openings  of  which,  nearly  always  torn, 
added  one  trait  the  more  to  the  negligence  of  his 
person.     Anyone  who  has  frequented  the  Palais  de 


248  THE   INTERDICTION 

Justice  at  Paris,  a  locality  in  which  may  be  observed 
all  the  varieties  of  black  garments,  may  readily 
imagine  the  style  of  Monsieur  Popinot.  The  habit 
of  sitting  for  entire  days  produces  material  changes 
in  the  bodily  conformation,  just  as  the  weariness 
caused  by  the  interminable  pleadings  affects  the 
physiognomy  of  the  magistrates.  Enclosed  in  the 
ridiculously  narrow  court  rooms,  with  no  majesty  of 
architecture  and  in  which  the  air  is  speedily  viti- 
ated, the  Parisian  judge  assumes  through  compul- 
sion a  frowning  visage,  aged  by  close  attention, 
saddened  through  weariness;  his  complexion 
bleaches,  contracts  greenish  or  earthy  tints  ac- 
cording to  his  individual  temperament  In  short, 
within  a  given  time,  the  most  flourishing  young 
man  becomes  a  pale  machine  of  whereases,  a  mech- 
anism applying  the  Code  to  every  possible  case 
with  the  imperturbability  of  the  fly  wheels  of  a 
clock.  If  then.  Nature  had  not  endowed  Monsieur 
Popinot  with  a  very  agreeable  exterior,  the  magis- 
tracy had  not  embellished  it.  The  scaffolding  of  his 
bodily  frame  presented  many  angles.  His  big 
knees,  his  great  feet,  his  large  hands,  contrasted 
with  a  sacerdotal  countenance  which  vaguely  re- 
sembled a  calf's  head,  mild  to  insipidity,  badly 
lighted  by  mismatched,  bloodless  eyes,  divided  by 
a  nose  straight  and  flat,  surmounted  by  a  fore- 
head without  any  protuberance,  decorated  by  two 
immense  ears  which  waved  without  any  grace.  His 
thin  and  scanty  locks  allowed  his  skull  to  be  seen 
through  several  irregular  openings.    A  single  feature 


THE   INTERDICTION  249 

recommended  this  countenance  to  the  physiognomist. 
This  man  had  a  mouth  the  lips  of  which  breathed  a 
divine  I<indliness.  They  were  good,  thick  lips, 
red,  with  a  thousand  wrinkles,  sinuous,  mobile,  in 
which  Nature  had  expressed  beautiful  sentiments; 
lips  which  spoke  to  the  heart  and  revealed  in  this 
man  intelligence,  perspicacity,  the  gift  of  second 
sight,  an  angelic  spirit; — so  that  you  would  have 
comprehended  him  very  badly  by  judging  him  only 
by  his  depressed  forehead,  his  eyes  without  warmth 
and  his  pitiful  carriage.  His  life  corresponding 
with  his  physiognomy,  it  was  filled  with  secret 
labors  and  concealed  the  virtue  of  a  saint.  Ex- 
haustive legal  studies  had  so  well  recommended  him 
that,  when  Napoleon  reorganized  the  administration 
of  justice  in  1806  and  181 1,  in  accordance  with  the 
advice  of  Cambaceres,  he  was  selected  as  one  of  the 
first  to  preside  in  the  imperial  court  at  Paris.  Po- 
pinot  was  nothing  of  a  self-seeker.  At  each  new 
emergency,  at  each  new  solicitation,  the  minister 
pushed  Popinot  back  a  step, — he  never  set  foot 
either  within  the  doors  of  the  high-chancellor  or 
those  of  the  chief  justice.  From  the  court,  he  was 
transferred  to  the  rolls  of  the  tribunals,  then  pushed 
gradually  down  to  the  last  round  of  the  ladder  by 
the  intrigues  of  active  and  stirring  competitors. 
He  was  finally  named  assistant  judge!  A  general 
outcry  rose  in  the  Palais:  "Popinot  assistant 
judge!"  This  injustice  roused  the  judicial  world, 
the  advocates,  the  bailiffs,  everybody  excepting 
Popinot,  who  made  no  complaint  at  all.     The  first 


250  THE   INTERDICTION 

clamor  over,  everyone  found  that  all  was  for  the  best 
in  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds,  which  certainly 
should  be  the  judicial  world.  Popinot  was  assistant 
judge  up  to  the  days  on  which  the  most  celebrated 
Keeper  of  the  Seals  of  the  Restoration  avenged  the 
injustices  done  to  this  noblest  and  silent  man  by  the 
chief  justices  of  the  Empire.  After  having  been 
assistant  judge  for  twelve  years,  Monsieur  Popinot 
was  doubtless  going  to  die  as  a  simple  judge  of  the 
tribunal  of  the  Seine. 

In  order  to  explain  the  obscure  destiny  of  one  of 
the  superior  men  in  the  judiciary  order,  it  is  neces- 
sary here  to  enter  into  some  considerations  which 
will  serve  to  unveil  his  life,  his  character,  and 
which  will  show,  moreover,  some  of  the  wheels 
within  wheels  of  that  great  machine  that  is  called 
Justice.  Monsieur  Popinot  was  classified  by  the 
three  presidents  who  presided  successively  over  the 
tribunal  of  the  Seine  in  a  category  of  jugerie — juris- 
diction of  a  judge,  his  province, — the  only  word 
which  can  express  the  desired  idea.  He  did  not 
obtain  in  this  company  the  reputation  for  capacity 
to  which  his  works  had  entitled  him  in  advance. 
In  the  same  way  that  a  painter  is  invariably  in- 
cluded in  the  category  of  landscapists,  portraitists, 
historical,  marine,  or  genre  painters,  by  the  pub- 
lic of  the  artists,  the  connoisseurs  or  the  idiots, 
who  through  envy,  through  critical  omnipotence, 
through  prejudice,  confine  him  in  his  intelligence, 
believing,  all,  that  there  exist  calli  in  all  brains, 
— a   narrowness    of    judgment    which    the    world 


THE   INTERDICTION  25 1 

applies  to  writers,  to  statesmen,  to  all  those  who 
commence  by  a  specialty  before  being  proclaimed 
universal;  in  this  same  manner,  Popinot  arrived  at 
his  destination  and  was  enclosed  in  his  class.  The 
magistrates,  the  advocates,  the  attorneys,  all  those 
who  pasture  in  the  judicial  field,  distinguish  two 
elements  in  a  lawsuit, — law  and  equity.  The 
equity  results  from  the  facts,  the  law  is  the  applica- 
tion of  principles  to  the  facts.  A  man  may  be  right 
in  equity,  wrong  in  justice,  without  the  judge  being 
accusable.  Between  the  conscience  and  the  action 
there  is  a  world  of  determining  reasons  which  are 
unknown  to  the  judge,  and  which  condemn  or  jus- 
tify the  action.  A  judge  is  not  God,  his  duty  is  to 
adapt  facts  to  principles,  to  judge  cases  infinitely 
varied  by  making  use  of  a  determinate  standard. 
If  the  judge  had  the  power  of  reading  the  conscience 
and  distinguishing  the  motives  so  as  to  render 
equitable  judgments,  each  judge  would  be  a  great 
man.  France  requires  about  six  thousand  judges; 
no  one  generation  has  six  thousand  great  men  at  its 
service,  for  the  best  of  reasons  it  cannot  find  them, 
then,  for  its  magistracy.  Popinot  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  Parisian  civilization  a  very  skilful  cadi,  who, 
by  the  nature  of  his  mind  and  through  having  thor- 
oughly rubbed  the  letter  of  the  law  into  the  spirit 
of  facts,  had  recognized  the  defect  of  wilful  and 
violent  applications.  Aided  by  his  judicial  second 
sight,  he  pierced  the  envelope  of  double  falsehoods 
in  which  the  lawyers  conceal  the  inner  facts  of  the 
cases.     A  judge,  as  the  illustrious  Desplein  was  a 


252  THE  INTERDICTION 

surgeon,  he  penetrated  the  consciences  as  that 
learned  man  penetrated  the  bodies.  His  life  and 
his  habits  had  led  him  to  the  exact  appreciation  of 
the  most  secret  thoughts  by  the  examination  of  the 
facts.  He  delved  into  a  case  as  Cuvier  turned  over 
the  mould  of  the  earth.  Like  that  great  thinker, 
he  proceeded  from  deduction  to  deduction  before 
coming  to  a  conclusion,  and  reproduced  the  past  of 
the  conscience  as  Cuvier  reconstructed  an  anoplo- 
therium.  When  it  was  a  case  of  a  report,  he  often 
woke  up  suddenly  in  the  night,  surprised  by  a  gleam 
of  truth  which  suddenly  revealed  itself  in  his 
thoughts.  Struck  by  the  profound  injustice  which 
characterizes  these  contests  in  which  everything 
disserves  the  honest  man,  in  which  everything  is  in 
favor  of  the  rogue,  he  often  decided  against  the  law 
and  in  favor  of  equity  in  all  causes  in  which  there 
were  questions  the  truth  of  which  might  in  some 
manner  be  divined.  He  therefore  passed  among  his 
colleagues  as  sufficiently  unpractical,  his  reasons, 
doubly  deduced,  moreover  prolonged  the  delibera- 
tions ;  when  Popinot  remarked  their  unwillingness  to 
listen  to  him,  he  gave  his  opinion  briefly.  It  was 
said  that  he  was  but  an  indifferent  judge  in  these 
cases;  but,  as  he  had  a  striking  genius  of  apprecia- 
tion, as  his  judgment  was  lucid  and  his  penetration 
profound,  he  was  regarded  as  possessing  a  special 
aptitude  for  the  dreary  functions  of  jiige  d'instrtic- 
tion*      He  remained  therefore   juge  d'instruction 

*Juge  d'instruction— mAZiSira^e  charged  with  the  preliminary  examination  of 
the  accused.— Note  by  Translator. 


THE  INTERDICTION  253 

during  the  greater  part  of  his  judicial  life.  Although 
his  qualifications  rendered  him  eminently  fitted  for 
this  difficult  position,  and  although  he  had  the  rep- 
utation of  being  a  profound  criminalist  who  found 
pleasure  in  his  functions,  the  kindness  of  his  heart 
kept  him  constantly  in  torture,  and  he  was  held  be- 
tween his  conscience  and  his  pity  as  in  a  vise. 
Although  better  recompensedthanthoseof /z/o-^  cm/, 
the  functions  of  juge  d'instruction  would  tempt  no 
one;  they  are  too  slavish  and  confining.  Popinot, 
a  man  of  modesty  and  of  honest  erudition,  without 
ambition,  an  indefatigable  worker,  did  not  complain 
of  his  condition ;  he  sacrificed  to  the  public  good  his 
tastes,  his  compassion,  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
deported  into  the  lagunes  of  criminal  examination, 
where  he  was  able  to  be  at  once  severe  and  benev- 
olent. Sometimes  his  clerk  of  the  court  conveyed 
to  the  accused  money  for  the  purchase  of  tobacco,  or 
for  a  warm  garment  in  winter,  in  conducting  him 
back  from  the  judge's  rooms  to  the  Souriciere,  a 
temporary  prison  in  which  the  accused  are  held  at 
the  disposition  of  the  juge  d'instruction.  He  knew 
how  to  be  at  once  an  inflexible  judge  and  a  chari- 
table man.  Thus  no  one  could  obtain  more  readily 
than  he,  full  confessions  without  resorting  to  any  of 
the  judicial  machinery.  He  had,  moreover,  all  the 
shrewdness  of  a  keen  observer.  This  man  of  an 
apparently  silly  goodness.simple  and  absent-minded, 
detected  the  tricks  of  the  Crispins  of  the  galleys, 
outwitted  the  most  cunning  of  jades,  and  made  the 
scoundrels   tremble.     Very  unusual    circumstances 


2  54  THE   INTERDICTION 

had  sharpened  his  perspicacity;  but,  to  relate  them, 
it  is  necessary  to  penetrate  into  his  inward  life;  for 
the  judge  was  with  him  the  social  side;  another 
man,  greater  and  less  known,  was  to  be  found  in 
him. 

Twelve  years  before  the  day  on  which  this  history 
commences,  in  1816,  at  the  time  of  that  terrible 
scarcity  which  coincided  fatally  with  the  sojourn  of 
the  so-called  allies  in  France,  Popinot  was  appointed 
president  of  the  extraordinary  commission  instituted 
to  distribute  supplies  to  the  poor  of  his  quarter,  at 
the  moment  when  he  was  proposing  to  abandon 
the  Rue  du  Fouarre,  residence  in  which  was  no  less 
displeasing  to  him  than  to  his  wife.  This  grand 
jurisconsult,  this  profound  criminalist,  in  whom 
superiority  seemed  to  his  colleagues  an  aberration, 
had  for  the  last  five  years  perceived  judicial  results 
without  discovering  their  causes.  In  ascending  into 
garrets,  in  observing  distress,  in  studying  the  cruel 
necessities  which  gradually  conduct  the  poor  to 
reprehensible  actions,  in  measuring,  in  short,  their 
long  struggles,  he  was  filled  with  compassion.  This 
judge  became  then  the  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul  of 
these  grown-up  children,  of  these  suffering  workers. 
His  transformation  was  not  complete  at  once.  Be- 
nevolence may  be  led  along  gradually,  like  the  vices. 
Charity  empties  the  purse  of  a  saint,  as  roulette 
devours  the  gambler's  wealth,  gradually.  Popinot 
went  from  misfortune  to  misfortune,  from  one  alms- 
giving to  another;  then,  when  he  had  lifted  all 
the  rags  which  serve  for  this  public  misery  as  a 


THE  INTERDICTION  255 

dressing  under  which  festers  a  feverish  wound,  he 
became,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  the  Providence  of  his 
quarter.  He  was  a  member  of  the  committee  of 
benevolence  and  of  the  bureau  of  charity.  Every- 
where that  his  gratuitous  functions  were  to  be  exer- 
cised, he  accepted  them  and  performed  them  without 
ostentation,  after  the  manner  of  the  man  with  the 
little  cloak,*  who  passes  his  life  in  carrying  soups 
into  the  markets  and  into  localities  where  the 
famished  are  to  be  found.  Popinot  had  the  happi- 
ness to  act  within  a  larger  circumference  and  in 
a  more  elevated  sphere ; — he  surveyed  everything, 
he  prevented  crime,  he  gave  employment  to  idle 
workmen,  he  found  situations  for  the  helpless,  he 
distributed  his  assistance  with  discernment  at  all 
the  threatened  points,  constituted  himself  the  ad- 
viser of  the  widow,  the  protector  of  homeless 
children^  the  silent  partner  in  small  commercial 
affairs.  No  one  at  the  Palais  or  in  Paris  knew 
anything  of  this  secret  life  of  Popinot.  There  are 
virtues  so  brilliant  that  they  permit  of  concealment; 
men  hasten  to  put  them  under  a  bushel.  As  to 
those  aided  by  the  magistrate,  all  of  them,  working 
during  the  day  and  fatigued  at  night,  were  but  little 
likely  to  sound  his  praises;  they  had  all  the  in- 
gratitude of  children,  who  can  never  repay  because 
they  owe  too  much.  There  are  unnatural  ingrati- 
tudes; but  what  heart  can  sow  good  in  order  to 
harvest  gratitude  and  believe  itself  great?     In  the 

*Homme  aupetit  manteau  bleu — popular  name  given  a  celebrated  philanthro- 
pist named  Champion,  bom  in  1764,  died  in  1852. — Note  by  Translator. 


256  THE  INTERDICTION 

second  year  of  his  secret  apostleship,  Popinot  had 
ended  by  converting  the  ground  floor  of  his  house 
into  a  charity  bureau,  lit  by  the  three  windows 
with  iron  gratings.  The  walls  and  the  ceiling  of 
this  large  apartment  had  been  whitewashed,  and 
the  furniture  consisted  of  wooden  benches,  like 
those  of  the  schools,  of  a  cheap  wardrobe,  a  walnut 
desk  and  an  armchair.  In  the  wardrobe  were  his 
charity  registers,  his  models  for  bread-tickets,  his 
day-book.  He  kept  his  accounts  in  a  business-like 
manner,  so  as  not  to  be  the  dupe  of  his  own  virtue. 
All  the  distresses  of  the  quarter  were  figured,  set 
down  in  a  book  in  which  each  misfortune  had  its 
own  account,  like  a  merchant's  debtors  on  his 
books.  When  he  had  doubts  about  a  family,  con- 
cerning a  man  to  be  helped,  the  magistrate  found  at 
his  command  the  information  of  the  detective  police. 
Lavienne,  a  domestic  made  for  his  master,  was  his 
aide-de-camp.  He  withdrew  or  renewed  the  pledges 
in  the  pawn  shops,  and  explored  the  most  threaten- 
ing localities  while  his  master  was  occupied  at  the 
Palais.  From  four  to  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning 
in  summer,  from  six  to  nine  o'clock  in  winter,  this 
apartment  was  full  of  women,  of  children,  of  the 
poor,  to  whom  Popinot  gave  hearings.  There  was 
no  need  of  a  stove  in  winter, — the  crowd  thronged 
so  thickly  that  the  atmosphere  became  warm ;  but 
Lavienne  spread  some  straw  on  the  too-damp  pave- 
ment. In  the  end,  the  benches  became  as  polished 
as  mahogany  varnished;  also  up  to  the  height  of 
a  man,  the  wall  received  an   indescribable  dusky 


THE   INTERDICTION  257 

painting,  applied  by  the  rags  and  the  dilapidated 
garments  of  the  poor.  These  unfortunates  loved 
Popinot  so  much  that,  when,  before  the  opening  of 
his  door,  they  had  gathered  there  in  the  winter 
mornings,  the  women  warming  themselves  with 
foot  warmers,  the  men  slapping  their  arms  for  the 
same  purpose,  there  was  never  a  murmur  to  trouble 
his  slumber.  The  rag-pickers,  the  night  wanderers, 
knew  this  dwelling,  and  often  saw  the  magistrate's 
cabinet  lit  up  at  unseasonable  hours.  Even  the 
thieves  said  in  passing  it:  "That  is  his  house," 
and  respected  it.  His  mornings  were  devoted  to  the 
poor,  the  middle  of  his  day  to  the  criminals,  the 
evenings  to  judicial  labors. 

The  genius  of  observation  that  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  Popinot  was  then  necessarily  Bifrons,* — he 
felt  instinctively  the  virtues  of  poverty,  the  good 
sentiments  frustrated,  the  fine  actions  conceived, 
the  unknown  devotions,  as  he  sought  in  the  depths 
of  consciences  the  slightest  traces  of  crime,  the  most 
delicate  threads  of  misdemeanors,  so  as  to  discern 
all.  The  Popinot  patrimony  was  worth  a  thousand 
ecus  of  income.  His  wife,  the  sister  of  Monsieur 
Bianchon  the  father,  doctor  at  Sancerre,  had  brought 
him  twice  as  much.  She  had  been  dead  for  five 
years,  and  had  left  her  fortune  to  her  husband.  As 
the  salary  of  an  assistant  judge  is  not  considerable, 
and  as  Popinot  had  not  been  a  judge  on  full  pay  for 

*Bifrons — a  demon  who,  when  he  assumes  the  human  form,  instructs  his 
disciple  in  astroloE:y  and  in  the  influence  of  the  planets;  he  excels  in  geometry 
and  knows  the  virtues  of  herbs,  plants  and  precious  stones.— Note  by  Trans- 
lator. 

17 


258  THE  INTERDICTION 

but  four  years,  it  is  easy  to  guess  the  reason  of  his 
parsimony  in  all  that  concerned  his  own  person  or 
daily  life,  considering  the  mediocrity  of  his  revenue 
and  the  extent  of  his  charity.  Moreover,  the  indif- 
ference as  to  garments,  which  in  Popinot  indicated 
the  preoccupied  man,  is  it  not  the  distinctive  mark 
of  a  lofty  science,  of  art  cultivated  furiously,  of  a 
mind  perpetually  active?  To  complete  this  por- 
trait, it  will  suffice  to  add  that  Popinot  was  of  the 
very  small  number  of  judges  of  the  tribunal  of  the 
Seine  to  whom  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
had  not  been  given. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  the  president  of  the 
second  chamber  of  the  tribunal — to  which  Popinot 
belonged,  he  having  re-entered  within  the  last  two 
years  among  the  jugescivils — had  commissioned  to 
proceed  to  the  examination  of  the  Marquis  d'Espard, 
upon  the  petition  presented  by  his  wife  in  order  to 
obtain  an  interdiction. 

The  Rue  du  Fouarre,  where  so  many  unfortunates 
swarmed  in  the  early  morning,  became  deserted 
at  nine  o'clock  and  resumed  its  sombre  and  poverty- 
stricken  aspect.  Bianchon  therefore  hastened  his 
horse's  trot,  so  that  he  might  catch  his  uncle  in  the 
midst  of  his  audience.  He  did  not  think  without  a 
smile  of  the  strange  contrast  which  the  judge  would 
produce  by  the  side  of  Madame  d'Espard;  but  he 
promised  himself  to  persuade  him  to  assume  a  cos- 
tume that  would  not  render  him  too  absurd. 

"if  my  uncle  has  only  a  new  coat.?"  said  Bian- 
chon to  himself  as  he  entered  the  Rue  du  Fouarre, 


THE  INTERDICTION  259 

in  which  the  windows  of  the  charity  bureau  emitted 
a  pale  light.  "1  should  do  better,  I  imagine,  to  con- 
sult Lavienne  on  that  point." 

At  the  sound  of  the  cabriolet,  some  ten  poor  people 
issued  from  under  the  porch  in  surprise  and  un- 
covered when  they  recognized  the  doctor;  for  Bian- 
chon,  who  gratuitously  attended  the  sick  recom- 
mended to  him  by  the  judge,  was  not  less  well 
known  than  he  to  the  unfortunates  there  assembled. 
Bianchon  perceived  his  uncle  in  the  midst  of  his 
bureau,  the  benches  of  which  were,  in  fact,  filled 
by  the  indigent  who  presented  such  grotesque  sin- 
gularities of  apparel  that  the  least  artistic  of  passers- 
by  would  have  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to 
look.  Certainly,  a  designer,  a  Rembrandt,  if  there 
existed  such  a  one  in  our  day,  would  have  there 
found  material  for  one  of  his  most  magnificent  com- 
positions in  seeing  these  miseries,  frankly  presented 
and  silent.  Here,  the  wrinkled  countenance  of  an 
austere  old  man  with  a  white  beard,  an  apostolic 
head,  presented  a  Saint  Peter  already  made.  His 
chest,  partially  uncovered,  allowed  the  swelling 
muscles  to  be  seen,  the  indications  of  a  tempera- 
ment of  bronze  which  had  served  him  for  a  base  of 
resistance  to  sustain  an  epic  of  misfortune.  There, 
a  young  woman  was  nursing  her  youngest  child, 
that  he  might  not  cry,  while  holding  another,  of 
about  five  years,  between  her  knees.  This  breast, 
the  whiteness  of  which  made  a  brilliant  spot  in  the 
midst  of  the  rags,  this  infant  with  its  transparent 
skin,  and  its  brother,  whose  attitude  revealed  the 


26o  THE   INTERDICTION 

gamin  of  the  future,  affected  the  sympathies  by  a 
sort  of  half  gracious  opposition  to  the  long  line  of 
figures  reddened  by  the  cold  in  the  midst  of  which 
this  family  appeared.  Farther  on,  an  old  woman, 
pale  and  cold,  presented  that  repulsive  face  of 
pauperism  in  revolt,  ready  to  take  vengeance  on 
some  day  of  sedition  for  all  its  past  pains.  There 
was  to  be  found  also  the  young  workman,  debili- 
tated, indolent,  in  whom  the  intelligent  eye  revealed 
superior  faculties  repressed  by  necessities  vainly 
struggled  against,  silent  under  suffering,  and  in 
peril  of  death  for  want  of  an  opportunity  to  gain 
entrance  into  that  immense  enclosure  in  which 
struggle  all  those  self-devouring  miseries.  The 
women  were  in  the  majority;  their  husbands,  gone 
off  to  their  workshops,  had  doubtless  left  to  them  the 
charge  of  pleading  the  household  cause  with  that 
lively  intelligence  that  characterizes  the  wife  of  the 
poor,  nearly  always  the  queen  in  her  own  hovel. 
You  might  have  seen  on  all  the  heads,  torn  handker- 
chiefs, on  all  the  bodies,  dresses  bordered  with  mud, 
fichus  in  rags,  jackets  dirty  and  full  of  holes,  but 
everywhere  eyes  which  glittered  like  so  many  living 
flames.  A  horrible  gathering,  of  which  the  aspect  at 
first  inspired  disgust,  but  which  soon  caused  a  kind 
of  terror  as  you  came  to  perceive  that  the  resigna- 
tion, purely  fortuitous,  of  these  souls  grappling  with 
all  the  daily  necessities  of  life,  was  merely  specu- 
lating upon  charity.  The  two  candles  which  lit  the 
apartment  flickered  in  a  kind  of  fog  caused  by  the 
ill-smelling  atmosphere  of  this  badly-aired  space. 


THE  INTERDICTION  26 1 

The  magistrate  was  not  the  least  picturesque  per- 
sonage in  this  assembly.     He  had  on  his  head  a 
reddish  cotton  cap.     As  he  was  without  a  cravat, 
his  neck,  red  with  cold  and  wrinkled,  showed  itself 
plainly  over  the  threadbare  collar  of  his  old  dressing- 
gown.     His  weary  countenance  presented  the  semi- 
stupid  appearance   caused  by  absorbed  attention. 
His  mouth,  like  that  of  all  those  who  work,  was 
tightened  like  a  purse  of  which  the  drawing-string 
is  pulled.     His  contracted  forehead  seemed  to  sup- 
port the  burden  of  all  the  confidences  which  were 
made  to  him,— he  felt,  analyzed,  and  judged.     As 
attentive  as  a  usurer  over  his  petty  loans,  his  eyes 
left  his  books  and  his  notes  to  penetrate  to  the  in- 
nermost conscience  of  the  applicants,  whom  he  ex- 
amined with  the  quickness  of  glance  by  which  the 
avaricious    express    their    disquietude.       Standing 
behind  his  master,   ready  to   execute  his    orders, 
Lavienne  doubtless  represented  the  police,  and  wel- 
comed the  newcomers,   encouraging  them  to  over- 
come their    own    bashfulness.      When   the   doctor 
appeared,  there   was  a   general   movement   on  the 
benches.       Lavienne    turned    his    head    and    was 
strangely  surprised  to  see  Bianchon. 

"Ah!  you  here,  my  boy,"  said  Popinot,  stretch- 
ing his  arms.  "What  brings  you  here  at  this 
hour.?" 

"I  feared  that  you  would  not  make  to-day,  unless 
you  saw  me,  a  certain  judicial  visit  concerning 
which  I  wish  to  see  you." 

"Well,"  resumed  the  judge,  addressing  a  stout 


262  THE   INTERDICTION 

little  woman  who  was  standing  near  him,  *'if  you 
do  not  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  my 
girl,  I  cannot  guess  it." 

"Hurry  up,"  said  Lavienne  to  her,  "do  not  take 
up  the  time  of  others." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  woman  finally,  reddening 
and  lowering  her  voice  so  as  not  to  be  heard  but  by 
Popinot  and  Lavienne,  "I  am  a  huckster,  and  I  have 
my  last  little  one  for  whom  I  owe  the  nurse  her 
monthly  wages.  Then,  I  hid  my  poor  little 
money — " 

"Well,  your  husband  took  it.?"  said  Popinot, 
divining  the  termination  of  the  confession. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"La  Pomponne. " 

"Your  husband's?" 

"Toupinet" 

"Rue  du  Petit-Banquier?"  resumed  Popinot, 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  register.  "He  is  in 
prison,"  he  said,  reading  a  note  on  the  margin  of 
the  leaf  on  which  the  case  of  this  household  was 
inscribed. 

"For  debt,  my  dear  monsieur." 

Popinot  shook  his  head. 

"But,  monsieur,  I  have  nothing  with  which  to  fill 
my  hand-cart,  the  landlord  came  yesterday  and  made 
me  pay  him;  otherwise,  I  should  have  been  put  out 
on  the  street." 

Lavienne  leaned  toward  his  master  and  said  some 
words  to  him  in  his  ear. 


THE  INTERDICTION  263 

"Well,  how  much  do  you  need  to  buy  your  fruit 
at  the  market?" 

"Why,  my  dear  monsieur,  I  should  need,  to  go 
on  with  my  business,  about — yes,  I  should  certainly 
need  ten  francs." 

The  judge  made  a  sign  to  Lavienne,  who  drew 
from  a  large  bag  ten  francs  and  gave  them  to  the 
woman,  while  the  judge  set  down  the  loan  in  his 
register.  By  the  involuntary  movement  of  joy 
which  agitated  her,  Bianchon  divined  the  anxieties 
which  had  tormented  this  woman  on  her  way  from 
her  own  house  to  the  judge's. 

"Your  turn,"  said  Lavienne  to  the  old  man  with 
the  white  beard. 

Bianchon  drew  the  valet  to  one  side,  and  asked 
him  how  long  this  audience  would  require. 

"Monsieur  has  had  two  hundred  persons  this 
morning,  and  here  are  still  eighty  to  do,"  said 
Lavienne;  "Monsieur  le  Docteur  will  have  time  to 
make  his  first  calls." 

"My  boy,"  said  the  judge,  turning  and  seizing 
Horace  by  the  arm,  "see  here,  here  are  two  ad- 
dresses not  far  away, — one.  Rue  de  Seine,  and  the 
other,  Rue  de  I'Arbalete.  Run  around  there.  In 
the  Rue  de  Seine,  a  young  girl  has  asphyxiated  her- 
self, and  you  will  find  in  the  Rue  de  I'Arbalete  a 
man  to  send  to  your  hospital.  1  will  expect  you  at 
dejeuner." 

Bianchon  returned  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour. 
The  Rue  du  Fouarre  was  deserted,  the  day  was  be- 
ginning to  break,  his  uncle  had  remounted  to  his 


264  THE   INTERDICTION 

apartments,  the  last  poor  wretch  whose  misery  had 
been  soothed  by  the  magistrate  had  gone  away, 
Lavienne's  bag  was  empty. 

"Well,  how  are  they  getting  on?"  said  the  judge 
to  the  doctor  as  he  mounted  the  steps. 

"The  man  is  dead,"  replied  Bianchon,  "the  young 
girl  will  recover." 

Ever  since  it  had  lost  the  supervising  eye  and 
hand  of  a  woman,  the  apartment  in  which  Popinot 
lived  had  assumed  an  aspect  that  harmonized  with 
its  master's.  The  carelessness  of  a  man  constantly 
preoccupied  by  one  over-mastering  thought  left  its 
curious  seal  on  everything.  Everywhere  an  invet- 
erate dust,  everywhere  in  the  objects  those  changes 
from  their  original  purpose  the  ingenuity  of  which 
recalled  those  of  bachelor  apartments.  There  were 
papers  thrust  into  the  flower  vases,  empty  ink  bottles 
on  the  furniture,  forgotten  plates,  phosphorus  boxes 
converted  into  candlesticks  at  the  moment  when 
it  was  necessary  to  search  for  something,  partial 
takings  down  and  packings  up,  commenced  and  for- 
gotten; in  short,  all  the  accumulations  and  the 
emptyings  caused  by  the  abandonment  of  all  thought 
of  arrangement.  But  the  magistrate's  cabinet, 
especially  stirred  up  by  this  incessant  disorder, 
revealed  his  ceaseless  action,  the  constant  preoccu- 
pation of  a  man  overwhelmed  by  affairs,  pursued  by 
conflicting  necessities.  The  library  was  as  if 
pillaged,  the  books  were  scattered  about,  some  of 
them  with  their  backs  thrust  into  the  open  pages  of 
others,  some  fallen  face  downward  on  the  floor ;  the 


THE  INTERDICTION  265 

legal  documents  arranged  in  a  row,  through  the 
greater  part  of  the  library,  encumbered  the  floor. 
This  floor  had  not  been  waxed  for  two  years.  The 
tables  and  the  furniture  were  laden  with  the  ex-votos 
brought  by  grateful  poverty.  Upon  the  cornucopias 
in  blue  glass  which  ornamented  the  chimney-piece 
were  two  glass  globes,  filled  with  various  colors 
mingled  together  which  gave  them  the  appearance 
of  some  curious  product  of  nature.  Bouquets  of 
artificial  flowers,  drawings  in  which  the  Popinot 
monogram  was  surrounded  by  hearts  and  immor- 
telles, decorated  the  walls.  Here,  were  boxes  in 
cabinet  work,  pretentiously  made,  and  which  served 
for  nothing.  There,  were  paper-weights,  manufac- 
tured in  the  style  of  those  articles  executed  by  con- 
victs in  the  galleys.  These  masterpieces  of 
patience,  these  rebuses  of  gratitude,  these  dried-up 
bouquets,  gave  to  the  judge's  cabinet  and  chamber 
the  air  of  a  shop  of  children's  playthings.  The 
good  man  made  mementos  of  these  works,  he  filled 
them  with  notes,  with  forgotten  pens,  and  with 
pieces  of  paper.  These  sublime  testimonials  of  a 
divine  charity  were  filled  with  dust,  without  fresh- 
ness. A  few  birds,  perfectly  stuffed  but  devoured 
by  worms,  figured  among  this  wilderness  of  trifles 
over  which  presided  an  Angora,  Madame  Popinot's 
favorite  cat,  which  a  naturalist  without  a  sou  had 
restored  with  all  the  appearance  of  life,  repaying 
thus  a  slight  alms  with  an  eternal  treasure.  Some 
artist  of  the  quarter  whose  heart  had  led  his  brushes 
astray,  had  also  executed  the  portraits  of  Monsieur 


266  THE   INTERDICTION 

and  of  Madame  Popinot.  Even  into  the  alcove  of 
the  bedchamber  there  penetrated  the  embroidered- 
pincushions,  the  landscape  made  in  needlework 
and  the  crosses  in  folded  paper,  the  twisting  of 
which  revealed  a  senseless  amount  of  labor.  The 
curtains  of  the  windows  were  blackened  by  smoke, 
and  the  draperies  had  lost  all  their  color.  Between 
the  fireplace  and  the  large  square  table  at  which  the 
magistrate  sat,  the  cook  had  served  two  cups  of 
coffee  with  milk  on  a  small  table.  Two  ma- 
hogany armchairs  upholstered  in  horse-hair  waited 
for  the  uncle  and  his  nephew. 

As  the  daylight,  intercepted  by  the  window  panes, 
did  not  penetrate  thus  far,  the  cook  had  left  two 
candles  burning,  the  immeasurably  long  wicks  of 
which  had  formed  "thieves"  and  threw  out  that 
reddish  light  which  saves  the  candle  by  the  slow- 
ness of  the  combustion, — a  discovery  due  to  the 
misers. 

"Dear  uncle,  you  should  dress  yourself  more 
warmly  when  you  go  down  to  that  parlor." 

"1  do  not  like  to  keep  them  waiting,  those  poor 
people!     Well,  what  is  it  that  you  wish  of  me?" 

"Why,  I  come  to  invite  you  to  dinner  to-morrow 
at  the  house  of  the  Marquise  d'Espard. " 

"One  of  our  relatives?"  asked  the  judge  with  an 
air  of  such  naive  preoccupation  that  Bianchon 
laughed. 

"No,  uncle;  the  Marquise  d'Espard  is  a  high  and 
very  influential  lady  who  has  presented  to  the  tri- 
bunal a  petition  to  have  her  husband  interdicted  from 


THE   INTERDICTION  267 

disposing  of  his  property,  and  you  have  been  com- 
missioned— " 

"And  you  want  me  to  go  and  dine  with  her !  Are 
you  crazy?"  said  the  judge,  seizing  the  Code  of 
legal  procedure.  "See  here,  read  there  the  article 
which  forbids  the  magistrate  to  eat  and  to  drink  in 
the  house  of  either  of  the  parties  whom  he  is  to 
judge.  Let  her  come  to  see  me  if  she  have  any- 
thing to  say  to  me,  your  marchioness.  In  fact,  I 
shall  have  to  go  to-morrow  to  examine  her  husband 
after  having  investigated  the  affair  during  the  com- 
ing night." 

He  rose,  took  a  bundle  of  documents  which  were 
held  by  a  paper-weight,  not  far  away,  and  said, 
after  having  read  the  title: 

"Here  are  the  papers.  Since  this  high  and  influ- 
ential lady  interests  you,  here  is  the  petition." 

Popinot  crossed  the  flaps  of  his  dressing-gown, 
which  always  fell  open  and  revealed  his  uncovered 
chest;  he  dipped  his  strips  of  bread  in  his  cold 
coffee,  and  looked  for  the  petition,  which  he  read 
aloud,  permitting  himself  some  interruptions  and 
some  discussions  in  which  his  nephew  joined. 

To  Monsieur  le  President  du  Tribunal  Civil  de  Pre- 
mise Instance  of  the  Department  of  the  Seine,  sitting  in 
the  Palais  de  Justice. 

"  'Madame  Jeanne-Clementine-Athenais  de  Bla- 
mont-Chauvry,  spouse  of  Monsieur  Charles-Mau- 
rice-Marie Andoche,  Comte  deN^grepelisse, Marquis 


268  THE   INTERDICTION 

d'Espard' — a  fine  nobility! — 'landholder;  the  afore- 
said Dame  d'Espard,  living  in  the  Rue  du  Faubourg- 
Saint-Honore,  number  104,  and  the  aforesaid  Sieur 
d'Espard,  Rue  de  la  Montagne-Sainte-Genevi^ve, 
number  22' — ah!  yes,  Monsieur  le  President  told  me 
that  it  was  in  my  quarter! — 'having  Maitre  Des- 
roches  for  her  attorney — ' 

"Desroches!  a  little  pettifogger,  a  man  in  bad 
odor  with  the  court  and  with  his  colleagues,  who 
injures  the  cause  of  his  clients!" 

"Poor  devil !"  said  Bianchon,  "he  unfortunately 
has  no  fortune,  and  he  struggles  like  the  devil  in  a 
holy-water  basin,  that  is  all." 

"  'Has  the  honor  to  represent  to  you,  Monsieur  le 
President,  that,  for  the  space  of  a  year,  the  faculties, 
moral  and  intellectual,  of  Monsieur  d'Espard,  her 
husband,  have  undergone  an  alteration  so  profound, 
that  they  constitute  to-day  the  condition  of  de- 
mentia and  imbecility  provided  for  by  Article  486 
of  the  Code  Civil,  and  call  for,  in  aid  of  his  fortune, 
of  his  person,  and  in  the  interests  of  his  children 
whom  he  keeps  with  him,  the  application  of  the 
dispositions  indicated  in  the  same  article. 

"  'That,  in  fact,  the  moral  condition  of  Monsieur 
d'Espard,  who,  for  the  space  of  several  years  past, 
has  excited  grave  fears  founded  upon  the  system 
adopted  by  him  for  the  management  of  his  affairs, 
has  traversed,  especially  during  this  last  year,  a 
deplorable,  descending  scale;  that  his  will  was  the 


THE   INTERDICTION  269 

first  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  evil,  and  that  his  pros- 
tration has  left  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Espard  a  prey 
to  all  the  dangers  of  an  incapacity  fully  established 
by  the  following  facts : 

"  'For  a  long  space  of  time,  all  the  revenues  accru- 
ing from  the  property  of  the  Marquis  d'Espard  have 
passed,  without  any  apparent  cause  and  without 
any  advantages,  even  temporary,  to  an  old  woman 
whose  repulsive  ugliness  is  matter  of  general  report, 
and  who  is  named  Madame  Jeanrenaud,  living  some- 
times in  Paris,  Rue  de  la  Vrilli^re,  number  8 ;  some- 
times at  Villeparisis,  near  Claye,  department  of  the 
Seine-et-Marne,  and  to  the  benefit  of  her  son, thirty- 
six  years  of  age,  an  officer  of  the  ex-Imperial  Guard, 
whom,  by  his  influence.  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
d'Espard  has  placed  in  the  Garde  Royale  with  the 
rank  of  chief  of  squadron  in  the  first  regiment  of 
cuirassiers.  These  persons,  who,  in  1814,  were  re- 
duced to  the  utmost  misery,  have  successively 
acquired  real  estate  of  a  very  considerable  value, 
lately,  among  others,  a  hotel  in  the  Grande  Rue 
Verte,  in  which  the  Sieur  Jeanrenaud  is  at  present 
expending  considerable  sums  in  order  to  establish 
himself  there  with  the  Dame  Jeanrenaud  his 
mother,  in  view  of  the  marriage  which  he  is  con- 
templating; which  sums  already  amount  to  more 
than  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  This  marriage  is 
being  brought  about  by  the  negotiations  of  the  Mar- 
quis d'Espard  with  his  banker,  the  Sieur  Mongenod, 
of  whom  he  has  asked  his  niece  in  marriage  for  the 
aforesaid  Sieur  Jeanrenaud,  promising  to  use  his 


270  THE   hYTERDICTION 

credit  to  obtain  for  him  the  dignity  of  baron.  This 
appointment  was,  in  fact,  established  by  an  ordi- 
nance of  His  Majesty,  dated  the  twenty-ninth  of 
December  last,  upon  the  solicitations  of  the  Mar- 
quis d'Espard,  as  can  be  established  by  his  Grace, 
Monseigneur  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals,  if  the  tribunal 
judge  it  proper  to  have  recourse  to  his  testimony. 

"  'That  no  reason,  even  drawn  from  those  which  are 
reproved  equally  by  morality  and  the  law,  can  justify 
the  empire  which  the  Dame  Jeanrenaud,  widow,  has 
established  over  the  Marquis  d'Espard,  who,  more- 
over, sees  her  very  rarely;  or  explain  his  strange 
affection  for  the  aforesaid  Sieur  Baron  Jeanrenaud, 
with  whom  his  communications  are  infrequent; 
nevertheless,  their  authority  over  him  is  so  great 
that,  every  time  that  they  are  in  need  of  money, 
even  were  it  to  satisfy  their  slightest  wishes,  this 
dame  or  her  son — ' 

"Eh!  eh!  reason  which  morality  and  the  law  re- 
prove !  What  does  the  clerk  or  the  attorney  wish  to 
insinuate  to  us?"  said  Popinot. 

Bianchon  laughed. 

"  'This  dame  or  her  son  obtains  without  any  dis- 
cussion from  the  Marquis  d'Espard  that  which  they 
ask,  and,  in  default  of  cash.  Monsieur  d'Espard  signs 
bills  of  exchange  negotiated  by  the  Sieur  Mongenod, 
who  has  offered  to  the  petitioner  to  testify  to  this 
effect. 

"  'That,  moreover,  in  support  of  these  facts,  it  has 


THE   INTERDICTION  271 

happened  recently  at  the  period  of  the  renewal  of 
the  leases  of  the  D'Espard  estate,  the  farmers  hav- 
ing given  a  sufficiently  important  sum  for  the  con- 
tinuation of  their  contracts,  the  Sieur  Jeanrenaud 
caused  the  immediate  delivery  of  these  sums  to 
himself. 

"  'That  the  will  of  the  Marquis  d'Espard  had  so 
little  to  do  with  the  abandonment  of  these  sums, 
that,  when  he  was  spoken  to  about  it,  he  did  not 
appear  to  remember  anything  concerning  it;  that 
every  time  that  he  has  been  questioned  by  grave 
personages  concerning  his  devotion  to  these  two 
individuals,  his  responses  have  indicated  so  com- 
plete an  abnegation  of  his  ideas,  of  his  interests,  that 
there  exists  necessarily  in  this  affair  some  occult 
cause  upon  which  the  petitioner  requests  the  eye  of 
justice,  seeing  that  it  is  impossible  that  this  cause 
should  not  be  criminal,  improper  and  unlawful,  or 
of  a  nature  to  be  appreciated  by  the  medical  juris- 
prudence, if  indeed,  this  obsession  be  not  of  those 
which  partake  of  the  abuse  of  the  moral  powers, 
and  which  can  be  qualified  only  by  making  use  of 
the  extraordinary  term  possession — * 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  Popinot,  "what  do  you 
say  to  that,  doctor  ?    These  facts  are  very  strange. " 

"They  might  be,"  replied  Bianchon,  "an  effect 
of  some  magnetic  power." 

"You  believe  then  in  the  nonsense  of  Mesmer,  in 
his  magnetizing  tub,  in  seeing  through  walls?" 

"Yes,  uncle,"  said  the  doctor,  gravely.     "While 


272  THE   INTERDICTION 

listening  to  you  reading  this  petition,  I  have  been 
thinking  of  it.  I  declare  to  you  that  1  have  verified, 
in  another  field  of  action,  several  facts  analogous  to 
these,  relative  to  the  boundless  empire  which  one 
man  can  acquire  over  another.  I  am,  contrary  to 
the  opinion  of  my  colleagues,  entirely  convinced  of 
the  power  of  the  will,  considered  as  a  motive  power. 
I  have  seen,  all  connivance  and  charlatanism  aside, 
the  effects  of  this  possession.  The  actions  promised 
the  magneti;(er  by  the  magnetised  during  the  sleep 
have  been  scrupulously  accomplished  in  the  waking 
state.  The  will  of  the  one  had  become  the  will  of 
the  other." 

"Every  species  of  action?" 

"Yes." 

"Even  criminal  ?" 

"Even  criminal." 

"It  is  well  that  it  is  you  who  say  so,  or  I  would 
not  listen." 

"I  will  make  you  a  witness  of  it, "  said  Bianchon. 

"Hum  !  hum  !"  said  the  judge.  "Supposing  that 
the  cause  of  this  pretended  possession  belongs  to  this 
order  of  facts,  it  would  be  difficult  to  establish  it  and 
to  cause  it  to  be  recognized  by  the  law." 

"1  do  not  see,  if  this  Dame  Jeanrenaud  is  fright- 
fully old  and  ugly,  what  other  means  of  seduction 
she  could  have  employed,"  said  Bianchon. 

"But,"  replied  the  judge,  "in  1814,  the  date  at 
which  the  seduction  was  accomplished,  this  woman 
must  have  been  fourteen  years  younger;  if  she 
had  become  acquainted  with  Monsieur  d'Espard  ten 


THE  INTERDICTION  273 

years  before  that,  these  calculations  of  dates  carry 
us  back  twenty-four  years,  to  a  period  in  which  the 
lady  may  very  well  have  been  young  and  pretty, 
and  have  acquired,  by  very  natural  methods,  for 
herself  as  well  as  for  her  son,  over  Monsieur  d'Es- 
pard,  an  empire  from  which  certain  men  are  unable 
to  escape.  If  the  cause  of  this  empire  seem  repre- 
hensible in  the  eyes  of  justice,  it  is  very  justifiable 
in  the  eyes  of  nature.  Madame  Jeanrenaud  may 
very  well  have  been  chagrined  at  the  marriage  con- 
tracted probably  about  that  time  by  the  Marquis 
d'Espard  with  Mademoiselle  de  Blamont-Chauvry ; 
and  there  might  be,  at  the  bottom  of  all  this,  noth- 
ing more  than  a  woman's  rivalry,  since  the  marquis 
has  not  lived  for  a  long  time  with  Madame  d'Es- 
pard." 

"But  this  repulsive  ugliness,  uncle?" 
"The  power  of  seduction   is   in  direct    ratio  to 
ugliness;   that  is  an  old  question!     Moreover,  the 
small-pox,  doctor?     But  let  us  continue. 

"  * — That,  since  the  year  181 5,  in  order  to  furnish 
the  sums  required  by  these  two  persons.  Monsieur 
le  Marquis  d'Espard  has  gone  to  live  with  his  two 
children  in  the  Rue  de  la  Montagne-Sainte-Gen- 
evi^ve,  in  an  apartment  the  poverty  of  which  is  un- 
worthy of  his  name  and  of  his  quality' — You  can 
live  just  as  you  please! —  'that  he  detains  there  his 
two  children,  the  Comte  Clement  d'Espard  and  the 
Vicomte  Camille  d'Espard,  in  a  manner  of  living 
not  in  accord  with  their  future,  with  their  name  and 
18 


274  THE   INTERDICTION 

their  fortune;  that  the  want  of  money  is  frequently 
so  great  that,  recently,  the  landlord,  one  Sieur 
Mariast,  seized  the  furniture  of  these  apartments; 
that,  when  this  due  course  of  law  was  effected  in 
his  presence,  the  Marquis  d'Espard  assisted  the 
sheriff's  officer,  whom  he  treated  as  a  person  of 
quality,  in  offering  him  all  the  marks  of  courtesy 
and  attention  which  he  would  have  displayed  for  a 
person  raised  above  himself  in  dignity  of  posi- 
tion— * 

The  uncle  and  the  nephew  looked  at  each  other, 
laughing. 

"  ' — That,  moreover,  all  the  actions  of  his  daily 
life,  outside  of  the  facts  alleged  as  to  the  Dame 
Jeanrenaud,  widow,  and  as  to  the  Sieur  Baron 
Jeanrenaud,  her  son,  are  characterized  by  madness; 
that,  for  nearly  the  space  of  ten  years,  he  has  occu- 
pied himself  so  exclusively  with  China,  with  its 
manners  and  customs,  with  its  history,  that  he 
compares  everything  to  Chinese  methods;  that, 
when  questioned  upon  this  point,  he  confounds  the 
affairs  of  the  present  time,  the  events  of  the  day 
before,  with  facts  relative  to  China;  that  he  cen- 
sures the  acts  of  the  Government  and  the  conduct 
of  the  King  although,  moreover,  he  loves  him  per- 
sonally, in  comparing  them  to  the  political  events 
of  China. 

"  'That  this  monomania  has  urged  the  Marquis 
d'Espard  to  actions  void  of  all  sense;  that  contrary 


THE   INTERDICTION  275 

to  the  customs  of  his  rank  and  the  ideas  which  he 
professes  concerning  the  duty  of  the  nobihty,  he 
has  undertaken  a  commercial  enterprise  for  which 
he  daily  signs  obligations  falling  due  at  certain 
dates  which  threaten  to-day  his  honor  and  his  for- 
tune, seeing  that  they  represent  him  in  the  quality 
of  a  merchant,  and  can,  if  they  are  not  met  at  the 
expiration  of  their  term,  cause  him  to  be  declared  a 
bankrupt;  that  these  obligations,  contracted  with 
paper  merchants,  printers,  lithographers  and  color- 
ists,  who  have  furnished  the  materials  necessary  for 
this  publication  entitled:  Picturesque  History  of 
China,  and  appearing  in  parts,  are  of  such  magni- 
tude, that  these  same  furnishers  have  entreated  the 
petitioner  to  request  the  interdiction  of  the  Marquis 
d'Espard  in  order  that  they  may  save  their 
credit — ' 

"This  man  is  a  fool,"  cried  Bianchon. 

"You  think  so,  you  do!"  said  the  judge.  "It  is 
necessary  to  hear  him.  Who  listens  to  only  one 
bell,  hears  only  one  sound." 

"But  it  seems  to  me — "  said  Bianchon. 

"But  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Popinot,  "that  if  one 
of  my  relatives  wished  to  get  possession  of  the  ad- 
ministration of  my  property,  and  that,  if  instead  of 
being  a  simple  judge  whose  moral  and  mental  con- 
dition can  be  examined  any  day  by  his  colleagues, 
I  were  a  duke  and  a  peer,  some  attorney  a  little 
sharp,  as  is  Desroches,  might  draw  up  a  petition 
similar  to  this  against  me." 


276  THE   INTERDICTION 

"  ' — That  the  education  of  his  children  has  suf- 
fered because  of  this  monomania,  and  that  he  has 
caused  them  to  be  taught,  contrary  to  all  the  usages 
of  instruction,  the  facts  of  Chinese  history  which 
contradict  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  religion, 
and  has  caused  them  to  be  taught  the  Chinese  dia- 
lects— ' 

"Here,  Desroches  seems  to  me  absurd,"  said 
Bianchon. 

"The  petition  was  drawn  up  by  his  head  clerk, 
Godeschal,  whom  you  know,  who  is  not  very 
Chinese,"  said  the  judge. 

"  ' — That  he  frequently  leaves  his  children  de- 
prived of  the  most  necessary  articles;  that  the  pe- 
titioner, notwithstanding  her  repeated  request,  is 
not  permitted  to  see  them ;  that  the  Sieur  Marquis 
d'Espard  brings  them  to  her  only  once  a  year;  that, 
knowing  the  privations  to  which  they  are  exposed, 
she  has  made  vain  efforts  to  procure  for  them  arti- 
cles the  most  necessary  for  their  existence,  and  of 
which  they  are  in  need — ' 

"Ah!  Madame  la  Marquise,  this  is  nonsense. 
Who  proves  too  much,  proves  nothing.  My  dear 
fellow,"  said  the  judge,  dropping  the  papers  on  his 
knees,  "where  is  the  mother  who  has  ever  been  so 
lacking  in  heart,  in  wit,  in  compassion,  as  not  to 
rise  even  to  the  level  of  the  inspiration  of  her  natu- 
ral instincts?     A  mother  is  as  shrewd  to  get  at  her 


THE  INTERDICTION  277 

children  as  a  young  girl  is  to  successfully  conduct  a 
love  intrigue.  If  your  marchioness  had  really 
wished  to  take  care  of  or  to  clothe  her  children,  the 
devil  himself  could  not  have  prevented  her,  hein  ? 
It  is  a  little  too  long,  this  fme  story,  to  be  swallowed 
by  an  old  judge !     Let  us  continue. 


>> 


"  • — That  the  age  at  which  the  said  children  have 
arrived,  requires  that  from  the  present  time,  pre- 
cautions should  be  taken  to  protect  them  from  the 
fatal  influence  of  this  education,  that  they  should  be 
provided  for  according  to  their  rank,  and  that  they 
should  not  have  before  their  eyes  the  example  given 
them  by  their  father's  conduct. 

"  'That  in  support  of  the  facts  alleged  in  these 
presents  there  exist  proofs  of  which  the  tribunal 
may  readily  obtain  the  evidence:  very  many  times 
Monsieur  d'Espard  has  designated  the  judge  of  the 
peace  of  the  twelfth  arrondissement  as  a  mandarin 
of  the  third  class;  he  has  often  called  the  professors 
of  the  College  of  Henri  IV.,  the  lettered.' — And  they 
resent  it! — 'With  relation  to  the  most  simple 
things,  he  has  said  that  they  are  not  so  managed  in 
China;  he  will  make  allusion,  in  the  course  of  an 
ordinary  conversation,  either  to  the  Dame  Jeanre- 
naud,  or  to  events  that  took  place  under  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  then  remain  plunged  in  the  deepest 
melancholy, — sometimes  he  imagines  himself  in 
China.  Several  of  his  neighbors,  notably  the 
Sieurs  Edme  Becker,  student  in  medicine,  Jean- 
Baptiste  Fremiot,  professor,  domiciled  in  the  same 


278  THE   INTERDICTION 

house,  believe,  after  having  conversed  with  the 
Marquis  d'Espard,  that  his  monomania,  in  all  that 
concerns  China,  is  the  result  of  apian  formed  by  the 
Sieur  Baron  Jeanrenaud  and  the  Dame  his  mother, 
widow,  to  complete  the  overthrow  of  the  moral 
faculties  of  the  Marquis  d'Espard,  seeing  that  the 
sole  service  which  the  Dame  Jeanrenaud  can  render 
Monsieur  d'Espard  is  to  procure  for  him  everything 
that  relates  to  the  Empire  of  China. 

"  'That,  finally,  the  petitioner  offers  to  prove  to 
the  tribunal  that  the  sums  absorbed  by  the  Sieur 
and  the  Dame  Jeanrenaud,  widow,  from  1814  to  1828, 
amount  to  not  less  than  a  million  francs. 

"In  confirmation  of  the  preceding  facts,  the  peti- 
tioner offers  to  Monsieur  le  President  the  testimony 
of  persons  who  are  in  the  habit  of  seeing  Monsieur 
le  Marquis  d'Espard,  and  whose  names  and  qualities 
are  set  down  here  below,  among  whom  many  have 
earnestly  requested  the  procuring  of  the  interdiction 
of  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Espard,  as  the  sole  method 
of  protecting  his  fortune  from  his  deplorable  admin- 
istration, and  of  removing  his  children  from  his  fatal 
influence. 

"  'In  consideration  of  this,  Monsieur  le  President, 
and  in  view  of  the  documents  hereto  adjoined,  the 
petitioner  requests  that  it  should  please  you,  seeing 
that  the  preceding  facts  prove  incontestably  the 
state  of  dementia  and  of  imbecility  of  Monsieur  le 
Marquis  d'Espard,  named  hereinbefore,  his  quality 
and  his  domicile,  to  order  that,  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  the  interdiction  of  the  same,  the  present 


THE  INTERDICTION  279 

petition  and  the  documents  in  corroboration  tliereof 
siiali  be  communicated  to  Monsieur  le  Procureur 
du  Roi,  and  to  commission  one  of  Messieurs  the 
judges  of  the  tribunal  to  the  end  that  a  report 
may  be  made  on  a  day  that  you  may  be  pleased  to 
indicate,  in  order  that  judgment  may  finally  be  de- 
creed by  the  tribunal  as  it  shall  see  cause,  and  you 
will  do  justice,  etc'  " 

"And  here  is,"  said  Popinot,  "the  ordinance  of 
the  president  who  commissions  me!  Well,  what 
does  she  want  with  me,  the  Marquise  d'Espard?  1 
know  what  to  do.  I  will  go  to-morrow  with  my 
clerk  to  see  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  for  this  does  not 
seem  to  me  clear  at  all." 

"Listen  to  me,  my  dear  uncle,  I  have  never  asked 
of  you  the  least  little  service  relating  to  your 
judicial  functions;  well,  I  entreat  you  to  have  for 
Madame  d'Espard  the  consideration  to  which  her 
station  entitles  her.  If  she  comes  here,  you  will 
listen  to  her?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  goto  hear  her  in  her  own  house:  Madame 
d'Espard  is  a  sickly,  nervous,  delicate  woman  who 
would  be  very  uncomfortable  here  in  your  rat's  nest. 
Go  there  in  the  evening,  instead  of  accepting  the 
invitation  to  dinner,  since  the  law  forbids  your  eat- 
ing and  drinking  in  the  houses  of  those  under  your 
jurisdiction." 

"Does  not  the  law  forbid  your  receiving  legacies 
from  your  dead  patients?"  said  Popinot,  thinking 


280  THE  INTERDICTION 

that  he  perceived  a  shade  of  irony  on  his  nephew's 
Hps. 

"Come,  uncle,  since  it  is  only  for  the  sake  of  ar- 
riving at  the  truth  in  this  affair,  grant  me  my  re- 
quest. You  will  go  there  asjuge  d'instniciion,  since 
things  do  not  seem  to  you  clear.  The  deuce!  the 
interrogation  of  the  marchioness  is  not  less  neces- 
sary than  that  of  her  husband." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  magistrate,  "it  may 
very  well  be  that  she  is  the  lunatic.     I  will  go." 

"I  will  come  to  get  you:  writedown  in  your  mem- 
orandum book :  To-morrow  evening  at  nine  o'clock, 
at  Madame  d'Espard's.  Good,"  said  Bianchon,  see- 
in2  his  uncle  make  a  note  of  the  rendezvous. 

The  next  evening,  at  nine  o'clock,  Doctor  Bian- 
chon mounted  the  dusty  stairway  of  his  uncle's,  and 
found  him  working  at  the  rendering  of  some  thorny 
judgment.  The  new  coat  ordered  by  Lavienne  had 
not  been  brought  by  the  tailor,  so  that  Popinot  took 
his  old  coat,  covered  with  spots,  and  was  still  the 
Popinot  incomptus  whose  aspect  excited  the  risibility 
of  those  to  whom  his  private  life  was  unknown. 
Bianchon  succeeded,  however,  in  putting  his  uncle's 
cravat  in  order  and  in  buttoning  his  coat,  he  con- 
cealed the  spots  on  the  latter  by  crossing  the  revers 
of  the  skirts  from  right  to  left  and  thus  presenting  the 
part  of  the  cloth  that  was  still  new.  But  in  a  very 
few  minutes  the  judge  pushed  his  coat  up  on  his  chest 
by  the  manner  in  which  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
trousers  pockets  according  to  his  usual  custom. 
The   coat,    multitudinously   wrinkled    behind    and 


THE  INTERDICTION  28 1 

before,  formed  something  like  a  hump  in  the  middle 
of  the  back,  and  produced  between  the  waistcoat  and 
the  pantaloons  a  space  in  which  the  shirt  showed 
itself.  To  his  misfortune,  Bianchon  did  not  per- 
ceive this  excessively  ridiculous  effect  until  the 
moment  when  his  uncle  presented  himself  in  the 
marchioness'  salon. 

A  slight  sketch  of  the  life  of  this  lady  in  whose 
dwelling  the  doctor  and  the  judge  were  at  this 
moment  entering  is  necessary  to  render  intelligible 
the  conference  which  Popinot  was  about  to  hold 
with  her. 

Madame  d'Espard  had  been,  for  the  last  seven 
years,  very  much  a  la  mode  in  Paris,  where  la  Mode 
alternately  elevates  and  pulls  down  personages  who, 
sometimes  great  and  sometimes  little, — that  is  to 
say, alternately  in  sight  and  forgotten, — become  later 
insupportable  persons — as  are  all  the  disgraced  min- 
isters and  all  the  dethroned  monarchs.  Inconvenient 
because  of  their  faded  pretensions,  these  fawners 
of  the  past  know  all,  slander  all,  and,  like  the 
ruined  spendthrift,  are  the  friends  of  all  the  world. 
To  have  been  forsaken  by  her  husband  about  the 
year  181 5,  Madame  d'Espard  must  have  been  married 
early  in  the  year  181 2.  Her  children  were,  therefore, 
one  fifteen  and  the  other  thirteen  years  of  age.  How 
had  it  come  to  pass  that  the  mother  of  a  family, 
thirty-three  years  of  age,  was  cl  la  mode.  Although 
fashionable  society  be  capricious,  and  though  no 
one  can  designate  its  favorites  in  advance,  though 
it  often  exalts  the  wife  of  a  banker  or  some  woman 


282  THE   INTERDICTION 

of  a  doubtful  elegance  or  beauty,  it  would  seem 
supernatural  that  it  should  have  assumed  constitu- 
tional features  and  adopted  the  presidency  of  age. 
In  this,  society  had  done  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
world,  it  accepted  Madame  d'Espard  as  a  young 
woman.  The  marchioness  was  thirty-three  years 
of  age  in  the  registers  of  the  State,  and  twenty-two 
in  the  evenings  in  a  salon.  But  how  many  cares 
and  artifices !  Artificial  ringlets  concealed  her  tem- 
ples. She  condemned  herself  in  her  own  apartments 
to  a  half-light,  posing  as  an  invalid  in  order  to  re- 
main in  the  protecting  shades  of  a  light  passed 
through  muslin  curtains.  Like  Diane  de  Poitiers, 
she  used  cold  water  for  her  baths;  like  her,  also,  the 
marchioness  slept  upon  horse-hair,  with  her  head 
upon  pillows  of  morocco  leather,  in  order  to  preserve 
her  hair,  ate  but  little,  drank  nothing  but  water, 
combined  all  her  movements  so  as  to  avoid  fatigue, 
and  brought  a  monastic  exactitude  to  the  slightest 
actions  of  her  life.  This  rude  system  has  been,  it 
is  said,  carried  to  the  extent  of  even  using  ice  in- 
stead of  water  and  cold  aliments  exclusively  by  an 
illustrious  Polish  lady  who,  in  our  day,  combines  a 
life  already  secular  with  the  occupations,  the  cus- 
toms of  a  studied  elegance,  of  a  petite-maiiresse. 
Destined  to  live  as  long  as  did  Marion  Delorme,  to 
whom  the  biographies  give  a  hundred  and  thirty 
years,  the  wife  of  the  former  viceroy  of  Poland  dis- 
plays, at  the  age  of  nearly  a  hundred,  a  youthful 
spirit  and  heart,  a  gracious  face,  a  charming  figure; 
she  can  in  her  conversation,  in  which  the  bon  mots 


THE  INTERDICTION  283 

sparkle  like  vine-twigs  in  the  fire,  compare  the  men 
and  the  books  of  the  literature  of  the  day  with  the 
men  and  the  books  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Liv- 
ing in  Warsaw,  she  orders  her  bonnets  from  Her- 
bault.  A  great  lady,  she  has  the  devotion  of  a  young 
girl,  she  swims,  she  runs  like  a  student,  and  knows 
how  to  throw  herself  on  a  divan  quite  as  gracefully 
as  any  young  coquette ;  she  insults  death  and  laughs 
at  life.  After  having  formerly  astonished  the  Em- 
peror Alexander,  she  can  to-day  surprise  the 
Emperor  Nicholas  with  the  magnificence  of  her  fes- 
tivals. She  can  still  cause  some  amorous  young 
man  to  shed  tears,  for  she  is  of  the  age  in  which  it 
pleases  her  to  have  all  the  ineffable  devotions  of  a 
grisette.  In  short,  she  is  a  veritable  fairy  story, 
if  indeed  she  be  not  the  fairy  of  the  story.  Had 
Madame  d'Espard  known  Madame  Zayonscek.-*  did 
she  wish  to  be  her  imitator?  However  this  may 
be,  the  marchioness  proved  the  beneficence  of  this 
regime,  her  complexion  was  pure,  her  forehead  had 
no  wrinkles,  her  body  preserved,  like  that  of  the 
well-beloved  of  Henri  11,,  the  suppleness,  the  fresh- 
ness, hidden  charms  which  bring  back  love  to  a 
woman  and  make  it  permanent.  The  so-simple  pre- 
cautions of  this  regime,  indicated  by  art,  by  nature, 
perhaps  also  by  experience,  found  moreover  in  her 
a  general  constitution  which  came  to  their  aid.  The 
marchioness  was  endowed  with  a  profound  indiffer- 
ence for  everything  which  was  outside  herself;  the 
men  amused  her,  but  not  one  of  them  had  ever 
caused   her  those  great  excitements  which    move 


284  THE   INTERDICTION 

profoundly  the  two  natures  and  break  one  against 
the  other.  She  knew  neither  hatred  nor  love. 
When  offended,  she  took  her  revenge  coldly  and 
tranquilly,  at  her  ease,  while  waiting  the  occasion 
to  satisfy  the  evil  thought  which  she  preserved 
against  anyone  who  remained  unforgiven  in  her 
memory.  She  did  not  stir  herself,  did  not  agitate 
herself  in  the  least;  she  spoke,  for  she  knew  that 
in  saying  two  words  a  woman  can  kill  three  men. 
With  a  singular  pleasure,  she  saw  herself  aban- 
doned by  Monsieur  d'Espard — did  he  not  carry  away 
with  him  two  children  who,  at  present,  wearied  her, 
and  who,  in  the  future,  could  seriously  injure  her 
pretensions?  Her  most  intimate  friends,  as  her 
least  persevering  adorers,  seeing  nowhere  with  her 
those  jewels  of  Cornelia  who  go  and  come  proclaim- 
ing without  knowing  it,  their  mother's  age,  all  took 
her  for  a  young  woman.  The  two  children,  con- 
cerning whom  the  marchioness  appeared  to  be  so 
much  concerned  in  her  petition,  were,  as  well  as 
their  father,  as  unknown  to  the  world  as  the  North- 
east passage  is  unknown  to  the  mariner.  Mon- 
sieur d'Espard  was  considered  to  be  an  eccentric, 
who  had  left  his  wife  without  having  against  her 
the  slightest  cause  of  complaint.  Finding  herself 
her  own  mistress  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and 
mistress  of  her  fortune,  which  gave  her  twenty-six 
thousand  francs  a  year,  the  marchioness  hesitated 
a  long  time  before  taking  a  part  and  deciding  upon 
her  future  existence.  Although  she  profited  by  the 
outlay  which  her  husband  had  made  in  his  hotel,  of 


THE  INTERDICTION  285 

which  she  kept  the  furniture,  the  equipages,  the 
horses,  in  short,  a  complete  establishment,  she  led 
at  first  a  retired  life  during  the  years  sixteen,  sev- 
enteen and  eighteen,  an  epoch  in  which  the  great 
families  repaired  their  disasters  occasioned  by  the 
political  troubles.  A  member,  moreover,  of  one  of 
the  most  considerable  and  most  illustrious  families 
of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  her  relatives  ad- 
vised her  to  lead  a  domestic  life,  after  the  compul- 
sory separation  to  which  she  was  condemned  by  the 
inexplicable  caprice  of  her  husband.  In  1820,  the 
marchioness  shook  off  her  lethargy,  appeared  at 
the  Court,  at  the  f^tes,  and  received  in  her  own 
house.  From  182 1  to  1827,  she  held  great  state  in 
her  dwelling,  caused  herself  to  be  remarked  for  her 
taste  and  by  her  toilets;  she  had  her  day,  her  hours, 
for  receiving;  then  she  presently  seated  herself  on 
the  throne  on  which  had  formerly  shone  Madame  la 
Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant,  the  Duchesse  de  Lan- 
geais,  Madame  Firmiani,  who,  after  her  marriage 
with  Monsieur  de  Camps,  had  resigned  the  sceptre 
into  the  hands  of  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse, 
from  whom  Madame  d'Espard  had  wrested  it. 
The  world  knew  nothing  more  of  the  private  life 
of  the  Marquise  d'Espard.  She  seemed  to  remain 
a  long  time  on  the  Parisian  horizon,  like  a  sun  on 
the  point  of  setting  but  which  never  sets.  The  mar- 
chioness had  entered  into  a  close  alliance  with  a  duch- 
ess not  less  celebrated  for  her  beauty  than  for  her 
devotion  to  the  person  of  a  prince  then  in  disgrace, 
but  accustomed  to  entering  always  as  the  ruling 


286  THE   INTERDICTION 

spirit  into  coming. governments.     IWadame  d'Espard 
was   also  the  friend  of   a   fair  stranger  in   whose 
society    an    illustrious    and   experienced    Russian 
diplomat  was  in  the  habit  of  analyzing  public  affairs. 
Finally,  an  old  countess,  accustomed  to  shuffling  the 
cards  of  the  great  game  of  politics,  had  adopted  her 
in  a  maternal  manner.     In  the  eyes  of  any  man 
with  lofty  views,  Madame  d'Espard  was  thus  pre- 
paring herself  to  follow,  with  a  silent  but  real  influ- 
ence, the    public  and  frivolous  empire   which   she 
owed  to  fashion.     Her  salon  took  a  political  consis- 
tency.    These  words:     "What  do  they  say  of  that 
at  Madame  d'Espard's  ?    The  salon  of  Madame  d'Es- 
pard is  against  such  a  measure,"  were  beginning 
to  be  repeated  by  a  sufficiently  great  number   of 
dunces   to   give   to   her   flock   of  the   faithful   the 
authority  of  a  coterie.     A  few  crippled  politicians, 
cared  for,  flattered  by  her,  such  as  the  favorite  of 
Louis  XVIII.,  who  could  no  longer  get  himself  taken 
into    consideration,    and    some    former    ministers 
ready  to  return  to   power,  declared   her   to  be  as 
great  a  power  in  diplomacy  as  was  the  wife  of  the 
Russian  Ambassador  at  London.     The  marchioness 
had,    on   several    occasions,    given,    either   to  the 
deputies  or  to  the  peers,  certain  words  and  ideas 
which  from  the  tribune  had  afterward   resounded 
through  Europe.     She  had  often  formed  an  excellent 
judgment  on  events    of   the    day   covering  which 
her    coterie   did  not   dare  to  venture  an  opinion. 
The  principal  personages  of  the  Court  came  to  play 
whist    in    her   house    in   the  evening.      She  had, 


THE   INTERDICTION  287 

moreover,  the  virtues  of  her  defects.  She  was 
considered  to  be  discreet,  and  was  so.  Her  friend- 
ship seemed  to  be  proof  against  anything.  She 
served  her  proteges  with  a  persistence  which  testi- 
fied that  she  was  less  concerned  about  securing 
creatures  of  her  own  than  about  increasing  her 
credit.  This  conduct  was  inspired  by  her  ruling 
passion,  vanity.  The  conquests  and  the  pleasures 
which  hold  so  high  a  place  in  the  estimation  of  so 
many  women,  seemed  to  her  but  means  to  an  end; 
she  wished  to  live  on  all  the  points  of  the  very 
greatest  circle  that  life  can  describe.  Among  the 
men  still  young  and  for  whom  the  future  held  some- 
thing, who  frequented  her  salon  on  important  occa- 
sions, were  to  be  seen  Messieurs  de  Marsay,  de 
Ronquerolles,  de  Montriveau,  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  de 
Serizy,  Ferraud,  Maxime  de  Trailles,  de  Listomere, 
the  two  Vandenesses,  du  Ch^telet,  etc.  Frequently 
she  admitted  a  man  without  being  willing  to  receive 
his  wife,  and  her  power  was  already  sufficiently  well 
established  to  impose  these  hard  conditions  upon 
certain  ambitious  personages,  such  as  two  celebrated 
royalist  bankers,  Messieurs  de  Nucingen  and  Ferdi- 
nand du  Tillet.  She  had  so  carefully  studied  the 
strength  and  the  weakness  of  Parisian  life  that  she 
had  always  conducted  herself  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
permit  no  man  to  have  the  slightest  advantage  over 
her.  A  very  large  price  might  have  been  offered 
for  any  note  or  letter  that  might  compromise  her, 
without  finding  a  single  one.  If  the  dryness  of 
her  soul  permitted  her  to  play  her  part  with  such 


288  THE   INTERDICTION 

naturalness,  her  person  served  her  not  less  well. 
She  had  a  youthful  figure.  Her  voice  was,  at  her 
command,  fresh  and  flexible,  clear,  hard.  She  pos- 
sessed in  an  eminent  degree  the  secrets  of  that 
aristocratic  attitude  by  which  a  woman  effaces  the 
past.  The  marchioness  knew  perfectly  the  art  of 
placing  an  immense  space  between  herself  and  the 
man  who  believed  himself  entitled  to  certain  rights 
to  familiarity  after  a  chance  happiness.  Her  im- 
posing regard  knew  how  to  deny  everything.  In 
her  conversation,  great  and  beautiful  sentiments, 
noble  determinations,  seemed  to  flow  naturally  from 
a  pure  heart  and  soul;  but  she  was  in  reality  all 
calculation,  and  perfectly  capable  of  disgracing  a 
man  who  might  be  awkward  in  his  transactions  at 
the  very  moment  in  which  she  was  carrying  out 
without  shame  transactions  for  her  own  profit.  In 
endeavoring  to  attach  himself  to  this  woman,  Ras- 
tignac  had  well  selected  her  as  one  of  the  most  ex- 
cellent of  instruments:  but  he  had  not  yet  been 
able  to  make  use  of  it;  far  from  being  able  to  man- 
age her,  he  was  already  brayed  in  a  mortar  by  her 
hands.  This  young  condottiere  of  the  intellect,  con- 
demned, like  Napoleon,  to  forever  give  battle  know- 
ing that  one  defeat  would  be  the  tomb  of  his  fortune, 
had  encountered  in  his  protectress  a  dangerous  ad- 
versary. For  the  first  time  in  his  turbulent  life,  he 
was  playing  a  serious  game  with  a  partner  worthy 
of  him.  In  the  conquest  of  Madame  d'Espard  he  per- 
ceived a  future  ministry;  therefore  he  served  her 
before  making  use  of  her:  a  dangerous  debut. 


THE  INTERDICTION  289 

The  Hotel  d'Espard  required  a  numerous  train  of 
domestics  and  the  marchioness's  household  was 
very  considerable.  The  grand  receptions  took  place 
on  the  ground  floor,  but  the  marchioness  lived  on 
the  first  floor  of  her  house.  The  style  of  the  grand 
staircase,  magnificently  decorated,  the  apartments 
adorned  in  the  noble  taste  which  formerly  prevailed 
at  Versailles,  indicated  an  immense  fortune.  When 
the  judge  saw  the  porte-cochere  opening  before  his 
nephew's  cabriolet,  he  examined  with  a  rapid 
glance  the  lodge,  the  porter,  the  court,  the  stables, 
the  arrangements  of  this  dwelling,  the  flowers  which 
embellished  the  stairway,  the  exquisite  delicacy  of 
the  balustrade,  the  walls,  the  carpets,  and  counted 
the  valets  in  livery  who,  at  the  sound  of  the  bell, 
appeared  on  the  landing.  His  eyes,  which,  the  day 
before,  had  explored  in  his  charity  office  the  depths 
of  wretchedness  under  the  muddy  garments  of  the 
people,  now  studied  with  the  same  clearness  of 
vision  the  furnishing  and  the  decoration  of  the 
apartments  through  which  he  passed,  in  order  to 
discover  the  wretchedness  of  greatness. 

"Monsieur  Popinot. " — "Monsieur  Bianchon. " 
These  two  announcements  were  made  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  boudoir  in  which  the  marchioness  was, 
a  pretty  room,  recently  refurnished,  and  which 
looked  out  on  the  garden  of  the  hotel.  At  this 
moment  Madame  d'Espard  was  seated  in  one  of 
those  ancient  rococo  arm-chairs  which  MADAME  had 
made  the  fashion.  Rastignac  occupied  near  her, 
at  her  left,  a  low  chair  before  the  fireplace  in  which 
19 


290  THE   INTERDICTION 

he  had  established  himself  like  the  primo  of  an 
Italian  lady.  A  third  personage  was  standing  at 
the  angle  of  the  chimney-piece.  As  the  knowing 
doctor  had  shrewdly  divined,  the  marchioness  was 
a  woman  of  a  dry  and  nervous  temperament:  had  it 
not  been  for  her  regime,  her  skin  would  have  taken 
on  the  reddish  color  which  is  occasioned  by  a  con- 
stant heat;  but  she  increased  her  factitious  white- 
ness by  the  shades  and  the  vigorous  tones  of  the 
draperies  by  which  she  surrounded  herself  or  in 
which  she  dressed.  The  reddish  browns,  the  chest- 
nut colors,  the  bistre  with  golden  reflections  suited 
her  marvelously.  Her  boudoir,  copied  from  that  of 
a  celebrated  lady  then  the  fashion  in  London,  was 
furnished  in  tan-colored  velvet;  but  she  had  added 
numerous  embellishments  the  pretty  designs  of 
which  lightened  the  excessive  pomp  of  this  royal 
color.  Her  hair  was  arranged  like  that  of  a  young 
woman,  in  bandeaux  terminated  by  curls  which 
emphasized  the  somewhat  long  oval  of  her  face; 
but,  just  as  the  round  form  is  ignoble,  so  is  the 
oval  shape  majestic.  The  double  mirrors  with 
facets  which  lengthen  or  flatten  out  at  will  the 
faces  reflected  in  them,  furnish  an  evident  confirma- 
tion of  this  rule  as  applied  to  the  physiognomy. 
When  she  saw  Popinot,  who  stopped  in  the  doorway 
like  a  frightened  animal,  stretching  his  neck,  his 
left  hand  in  his  pocket,  the  right  armed  with  a  hat, 
the  lining  of  which  was  soiled,  the  marchioness 
threw  upon  Rastignac  a  glance  in  which  there  was 
the  suggestion  of  derision.      The  somewhat  silly 


THE   INTERDICTION  291 

aspect  of  the  good  man  was  so  in  accordance  with 
his  grotesque  apparel,  with  his  terrified  air,  that, 
on  seeing  Bianchon's  unhappy  face,  he  feeling  him- 
self humiliated  in  his  uncle,  Rastignac  could  not 
keep  from  laughing,  turning  away  his  head.  The 
marchioness  made  her  salutation  with  a  movement 
of  her  head,  and  with  a  painful  effort  to  rise  from 
her  armchair,  into  which  she  fell  back,  not  without 
grace,  in  seeming  to  apologize  for  her  impoliteness 
by  an  assumed  weakness. 

At  this  moment  the  personage  who  was  standing 
between  the  chimney-piece  and  the  door  bowed 
slightly,  pushed  forward  two  chairs  which  he  offered 
by  a  gesture  to  the  doctor  and  the  judge;  then, 
when  he  saw  them  seated,  he  leaned  back  again 
against  the  hangings  and  crossed  his  arms.  One 
word  as  to  this  man.  There  is  a  painter  of  our  day, 
Decamps,  who  possesses  in  the  highest  degree  the 
art  of  making  interesting  whatever  he  presents  to 
your  regards,  whether  it  be  a  stone  or  a  man.  In 
this  respect,  his  pencil  is  happier  than  his  brush. 
Let  him  design  a  bare  room  and  leave  a  broom  lean- 
ing against  the  wall ;  if  he  chooses  he  can  make  you 
shudder:  you  will  believe  that  that  broom  has  just 
served  as  the  instrument  of  a  crime  and  that  it  is 
wet  with  blood;  it  is  the  broom  which  the  widow 
Bancal  used  to  sweep  the  apartment  in  which 
Fuald^s  had  his  throat  cut.  Yes,  the  painter  will 
put  his  broom  in  such  a  dishevelled  state  as  if  it 
were  a  man  in  a  fury,  he  will  make  the  splints 
stand  upright  like  your  horrified  hair;  he  will  make 


292  THE   INTERDICTION 

of  it,  as  it  were,  an  interpreter  between  the  secret 
poetry  of  his  own  imagination  and  the  poetry  which 
reveals  itself  in  yours.  After  having  frightened 
you  by  the  sight  of  this  broom,  he  will  design 
another  to-morrow,  near  which  a  sleeping  cat,  but 
mysterious  in  its  slumber,  will  reveal  to  you  that 
this  broom  serves  the  wife  of  a  German  shoemaker 
to  fly  with  to  the  Brocken.  Or  else  it  may  be  some 
peaceful  broom,  on  which  he  will  hang  the  coat  of 
some  Treasury  clerk.  Decamps  has  in  his  brush 
that  which  Paganini  had  in  his  bow,  a  power  mag- 
netically communicative.  Well,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  transport  into  literary  style  this  compelling 
genius,  this  chic  of  the  pencil,  to  describe  the  erect 
man,  thin  and  tall,  dressed  in  black,  with  long 
black  hair,  who  remained  standing  without  saying 
a  word.  This  seigneur  had  a  hatchet  face,  cold, 
bitter,  the  color  of  which  resembled  the  waters  of 
the  Seine  when  they  are  disturbed  and  when  they 
carry  in  their  currents  the  coal  dust  of  some  sunken 
barge.  He  looked  at  the  floor,  listened  and  judged. 
His  attitude  was  terrifying.  He  was  stationed 
there  like  the  celebrated  broom  to  which  Decamps 
has  given  the  accusing  power  of  revealing  a  crime. 
Several  times  the  marchioness  endeavored  during 
the  conference  to  obtain  a  tacit  opinion  from  this 
personage  by  turning  her  eyes  for  a  moment  upon 
him ;  but  no  matter  how  searching  the  mute  interro- 
gation, he  remained  as  grave  and  stiff  as  the  statue 
of  the  Commander. 

The  good  Popinot,  seated  on  the  edge  of  his  chair, 


THE  INTERDICTION  293 

facing  the  fire,  his  hat  between  his  legs,  looked  at 
the  gilded  candelabra  in  ormolu,  the  clock,  the  curi- 
osities crowded  on  the  mantelpiece,  the  material 
and  the  embellishments  of  the  hangings,  in  short, 
at  all  those  pretty  nothings  which  are  so  costly 
and  with  which  a  fashionable  woman  surrounds 
herself.  He  was  drawn  from  his  bourgeois  con- 
templation by  Madame  d'Espard,  who  said  to  him 
in  a  flute-like  voice: 

"Monsieur,  1  owe  you  a  million  acknowledg- 
ments— " 

"A  million  acknowledgments,"  said  the  good  man 
to  himself,  "that  is  too  many,  there  is  not  one." 

" — For  the  trouble  which  you  condescend — " 

"Condescend!"  he  thought,  "she  is  making  fun 
of  me." 

" — Condescend  to  take  in  coming  to  see  a  poor 
client,  who  is  too  unwell  to  go  out — " 

Here  the  judge  interrupted  the  speech  of  the  mar- 
chioness by  turning  upon  her  the  look  of  an  inquis- 
itor with  which  he  examined  the  sanatory  condition 
of  the  poor  client. 

"She  is  perfectly  well,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Madame,"  he  replied,  assuming  a  respectful  air, 
"you  owe  me  nothing.  Although  my  proceeding 
may  not  be  usual  according  to  the  customs  of  the 
court,  we  should  spare  ourselves  nothing  in  order 
to  arrive  at  the  truth  in  these  cases.  Our  judg- 
ments are  then  determined  less  by  the  letter  of  the 
law  than  by  the  inspirations  of  our  own  consciences. 
Whether  I  search  for  the  truth   in  my  cabinet  or 


294  THE  INTERDICTION 

here,  provided  that  I  find  it,  everything  is  for  the 
best." 

While  Popinot  was  speaking,  Rastignac  grasped 
Bianchon's  hand,  and  the  marchioness  made  to  the 
doctor  a  little  inclination  of  the  head,  full  of  graceful 
favors. 

"Who  is  that  gentleman?"  said  Bianchon  in 
Rastignac's  ear,  indicating  the  man  in  black. 

"The  Chevalier  d'Espard,  the  brother  of  the  mar- 
quis." 

"Monsieur  your  nephew  has  informed  me,"  the 
marchioness  replied  to  Popinot,  "how  many  occupa- 
tions you  have,  and  I  know  already  that  you  are 
good  enough  to  wish  to  conceal  a  benefit,  in  order  to 
relieve  from  their  gratitude  those  whom  you  have 
favored.  It  seems  that  the  court  fatigues  you  ex- 
tremely. Why  do  they  not  double  the  number  of 
the  judges?" 

"Ah!  madame,  that  isnot  the  trouble, "  said  Popi- 
not, "it  would  not  be  any  worse  because  of  that.  But, 
when  that  happens,  the  chickens  will  have  teeth." 

When  he  heard  this  phrase,  which  was  so  in  har- 
mony with  the  judge's  appearance,  the  Chevalier 
d'Espard  looked  at  him  from  top  to  bottom  and  ap- 
peared to  say  to  himself:  "We  shall  easily  get  the 
better  of  him." 

The  marchioness  glanced  at  Rastignac,  who 
leaned  toward  her. 

"See,"  said  the  young  dandy  to  her,  "to  what 
kind  of  men  is  given  the  power  of  deciding  upon 
the  interests  and  the  life  of  individuals." 


THE   INTERDICTION  2Q5 

Like  the  greater  number  of  men  who  have  grown 
old  in  a  profession,  Popinot  allowed  himself  readily 
to  fall  into  the  habits  which  he  had  contracted, 
habits  of  thought,  moreover.  His  conversation 
smacked  of  the  juged' instruction.  He  loved  to  ques- 
tion his  interlocutors,  to  drive  them  into  unforeseen 
consequences,  to  make  them  say  more  than  they 
wished  to  have  known.  Pozzo  di  Borgo  amused 
himself,  it  is  said,  by  surprising  the  secrets  of  his 
interlocutors,  by  catching  them  in  his  diplomatic 
snares;  he  thus  displayed,  through  the  force  of  an 
invincible  habit,  his  crafty  spirit.  As  soon  as 
Popinot  had,  as  it  were,  reconnoitred  the  ground  on 
which  he  found  himself,  he  concluded  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  the  most  skilful 
devices,  the  most  carefully  disguised,  and  the  most 
beguiling  known  in  the  Palais,  in  order  to  discover 
the  truth.  Bianchon  remained  cold  and  grave,  like 
a  man  who  decides  to  submit  to  a  torture  in  silence ; 
but  inwardly  he  wished  for  his  uncle  the  power  to 
tread  on  this  woman  as  on  a  viper:  a  comparison 
which  was  suggested  to  him  by  the  long  dress,  the 
curve  of  the  attitude,  the  lengthened  neck,  the  little 
head  and  the  undulating  movements  of  the  mar- 
chioness. 

"Well,  monsieur,"  resumed  Madame  d'Espard, 
"whatever  may  be  my  repugnance  to  playing  the 
egotist,  I  have  been  suffering  for  too  long  a  time 
not  to  desire  that  you  should  soon  come  to  a  conclu- 
sion.    May  1  expect  soon  a  happy  result.?" 

"Madame,  I  will  do  all  that  1  can  as  far  as  I  am 


296  THE   INTERDICTION 

concerned  to  bring  it  to  a  conclusion,"  said  Popinot 
with  an  air  of  good  humor.  "Are  you  ignorant  of 
the  cause  which  brought  about  the  separation  now 
existing  between  yourself  and  the  Marquis 
d'Espard?"  asked  the  judge,  looking  at  the  mar- 
chioness. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  she  replied,  settling  herself  to 
relate  a  story  prepared  in  advance.  "At the  begin- 
ning of  the  year  1816,  Monsieur  d'Espard,  who,  for 
the  last  three  months,  had  completely  changed  in 
his  manners,  proposed  to  me  to  go  to  live  near 
Brianfon,  on  one  of  his  estates,  without  any  regard 
for  my  health  which  that  climate  would  have  ruined, 
without  taking  any  account  of  my  habits;  I  refused 
to  follow  him.  My  refusals  furnished  him  occasion 
for  reproaches  so  unfounded  that,  from  that  moment, 
I  began  to  doubt  the  soundness  of  his  mental  facul- 
ties. The  next  day  he  left  me,  leaving  to  me  his 
hotel,  the  free  disposition  of  my  income,  and  went 
to  live  in  the  Rue  de  la  Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve, 
taking  from  me  my  two  children — " 

"Permit  me,  madame,"  said  the  judge,  inter- 
rupting, "what  was  that  income?" 

"Twenty-six  thousand  francs  a  year,"  she  re- 
plied in  a  parenthesis.  "I  immediately  consulted 
old  Monsieur  Bordin  to  know  what  1  should  do," 
she  went  on;  "but  it  appeared  that  the  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  taking  from  a  father  the  control  of 
his  children  are  such  that  I  was  obliged  to  resign 
myself  to  living  alone  at  twenty-two  years  of  age,  an 
age  at  which  very  many  young  women  might  have 


THE  INTERDICTION  297 

committed  many  foolish  actions.  You  have  doubt- 
less read  my  petition,  monsieur,  you  are  acquainted 
with  the  principal  facts  upon  which  I  base  my  re- 
quest for  the  interdiction  of  Monsieur  d'Espard?" 

"Have  you  made  any  attempts,  madame,"  asked 
the  judge,  "to  obtain  your  children  from  him?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  but  they  have  all  been  fruitless. 
It  is  very  cruel  for  a  mother  to  be  deprived  of  the 
affection  of  her  children,  above  all  when  they  could 
give  her  those  enjoyments  which  all  women  prize 
so  highly." 

"The  eldest  must  be  sixteen  years  old,"  said  the 
judge. 

"Fifteen!"  replied  the  marchioness,  quickly. 

Here  Bianchon  looked  at  Rastignac.  Madame 
d'Espard  bit  her  lips. 

"Of  what  importance  is  the  age  of  my  children  to 
you?" 

"Ah!  madame,"  said  the  judge,  without  appear- 
ing to  attach  any  weight  to  the  meaning  of  his 
words,  "a  young  lad  of  fifteen  and  his  brother, 
doubtless  aged  thirteen,  have  legs  and  wits,  they 
could  readily  come  to  see  you  secretly;  if  they  do 
not  come,  it  is  because  they  obey  their  father,  and, 
to  obey  him  on  this  point,  they  must  love  him 
greatly." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  the  marchioness. 

"You  are  ignorant,  perhaps,"  replied  Popinot, 
"that  your  attorney  pretends  in  your  petition  that 
your  dear  children  are  very  unhappy  with  their 
father—" 


298  THE  INTERDICTION 

Madame  d'Espard  said  with  a  charming  inno- 
cence : 

"I  do  not  know  what  the  attorney  has  made  me 
say." 

"Forgive  me  these  inferences,  but  justice  weighs 
everything,"  Popinot  replied.  "Whatever  I  ask 
you,  madame,  is  inspired  by  the  desire  to  become 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  affair.  According 
to  you,  Monsieur  d'Espard  left  you  on  the  most 
frivolous  pretext.  Instead  of  going  to  Briangon, 
where  he  wished  to  take  you,  he  has  remained  in 
Paris.  This  point  is  not  clear.  Was  he  acquainted 
with  this  Dame  Jeanrenaud  before  his  marriage?" 

"No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  marchioness  with  a 
species  of  displeasure  visible  only  to  Rastignac  and 
the  Chevalier  d'Espard. 

She  was  vexed  to  find  herself  put  in  the  witness- 
box  by  this  judge,  when  she  had  proposed  to  herself 
to  pervert  his  judgment;  but,  as  Popinot  apparently 
remained  completely  simple-minded  through  his 
preoccupation,  she  concluded  by  attributing  his 
questions  to  the  interrogating  genius  of  Voltaire's 
bailiff. 

"My  parents,"  she  continued,  "married  me  at  the 
age  of  sixteen  to  Monsieur  d'Espard,  whose  name, 
whose  fortune  and  whose  habits  all  answered  to  that 
which  my  family  required  of  the  man  who  should 
become  my  husband.  Monsieur  d'Espard  was  then 
twenty-six,  he  was  a  gentleman  in  the  English  sense 
of  the  word ;  his  manners  pleased  me,  he  appeared 
to  be  very  ambitious,  and  I  like  the  ambitious,"  she 


THE   INTERDICTION  299 

said,  looking  at  Rastignac.  "If  Monsieur  d'Espard 
had  not  met  that  Dame  Jeanrenaud,  his  qualities, 
his  knowledge,  his  general  attainments,  according 
to  the  judgment  of  his  friends  at  that  time,  would 
have  carried  him  into  the  management  of  affairs; 
the  king  Charles  X.,  then  MONSIEUR,  held  him  in 
high  esteem,  and  the  peerage,  a  post  at  the  Court, 
an  elevated  position,  all  awaited  him.  This  woman 
turned  his  head,  and  has  destroyed  the  future  of  an 
entire  family." 

"What  were  at  that  time  the  religious  opinions  of 
Monsieur  d'Espard?" 

"He  was,"  she  replied,  "he  is  still,  of  an  exalted 
piety." 

"You  do  not  think  that  Madame  Jeanrenaud  has 
acted  upon  him  through  mysterious  powers?" 

"No,  monsieur." 

"You  have  a  beautiful  hotel,  madame,"  said  Po- 
pinot  brusquely,  taking  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets, 
and  rising  to  separate  the  skirts  of  his  coat  and 
warm  himself.  "This  boudoir  is  very  fine,  those 
are  magnificent  chairs,  your  apartments  are  very 
sumptuous;  you  may  well  sigh,  in  fact,  situated  as 
you  are  here,  to  know  that  your  children  are  badly 
lodged,  badly  clothed  and  badly  cared  for.  For  a 
mother,  I  cannot  imagine  anything  more  frightful !" 

"Yes,  monsieur.  I  would  wish  so  much  to  pro- 
cure some  pleasure  for  those  poor  little  ones,  whom 
their  father  compels  to  labor  from  morning  to  night 
on  that  deplorable  work  on  China!" 

"You   give    beautiful    balls,    they  would    amuse 


300  THE   INTERDICTION 

themselves  at  them,  but  they  would  perhaps  acquire 
a  taste  for  dissipation;  however,  their  father  may 
very  well  send  them  to  you  once  or  twice  a 
winter." 

"He  brings  them  to  me  on  New  Year's  Day  and 
on  my  birthday.  On  those  occasions.  Monsieur 
d'Espard  does  me  the  kindness  to  dine  with  them  at 
my  house." 

"This  conduct  is  very  singular,"  said  Popinot, 
assuming  the  air  of  a  man  convinced.  "Have  you 
seen  this  Dame  Jeanrenaud .''" 

"One  day,  my  brother-in-law,  who,  through  in- 
terest in  his  brother — " 

"Ah!  monsieur  then, "  said  the  judge,  interrupting 
the  marchioness,  "is Monsieur  d'Espard's  brother?" 

The  chevalier  bowed  without  saying  a  word. 

"Monsieur  d'Espard,  who  has  followed  this  affair, 
conducted  me  to  I'Oratoire,  where  this  woman  goes 
to  the  service,  for  she  is  a  Protestant.  I  saw  her, 
there  is  nothing  attractive  about  her,  she  is  like 
a  butcher's  wife;  she  is  extremely  fat,  horribly 
pitted  by  the  small-pox;  she  has  hands  and  feet 
like  a  man's,  she  squints,— in  short,  she  is  a 
monster." 

"It  is  inconceivable,"  said  the  judge,  appearing 
to  be  the  most  guileless  of  all  the  judges  in  the 
kingdom.  "And  this  creature  lives  near  here,  in 
the  Rue  Verte,  in  a  hotel !  There  are  then  no  more 
bourgeois?" 

"A  hotel  on  which  her  son  has  expended  insane 
sums." 


THE  INTERDICTION  3OI 

"Madame,"  said  the  judge,  "I  live  in  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Marceau,  I  do  not  know  that  sort  of  ex- 
pense,— what  do  you  call  expending  insane  sums?" 

"Why,"  replied  the  marchioness,  "a  stable,  five 
horses,  three  carriages, — a  caliche,  a  coupe,  a  cab- 
riolet." 

"That  costs  then  a  great  deal  ?"  said  Popinot  sur- 
prised. 

"Enormously!"  said  Rastignac,  intervening. 
"An  establishment  such  as  that,  requires,  for  the 
stables,  for  the  keeping  of  the  carriages  and  the 
clothing  of  the  servants,  between  fifteen  and  sixteen 
thousand  francs." 

"Do  you  think  so,  madame.'"  asked  the  judge 
with  a  surprised  air. 

"Yes,  at  the  least,"  replied  the  marchioness. 

"And  the  furnishing  of  the  hotel  must  have  cost 
also  a  great  deal.?" 

"More  than  a  hundred  thousand  francs,"  replied 
the  marchioness,  who  could  not  repress  a  smile  at 
the  vulgarity  of  the  judge. 

"The  judges,  madame,"  the  good  man  resumed, 
are  sufficiently  incredulous,  they  are  even  paid  to  be 
so,  and  I  am  so  myself.  Monsieur  le  Baron  Jean- 
renaud  and  his  mother,  if  this  be  true,  must  have 
strangely  plundered  Monsieur  d'Espard.  Here  is  a 
stable  which  according  to  you,  costs  sixteen  thou- 
sand francs  a  year.  The  table,  the  domestics* 
wages,  the  gross  expenses  of  the  household,  must 
be  the  double  of  that,  which  would  require  fifty 
or  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year.     Do  you  believe 


302  THE   INTERDICTION 

that  these  people,  formerly  so  poor,  can  possess  so 
great  a  fortune  as  that?  A  million  yields  scarcely 
forty  thousand  francs  of  income." 

"Monsieur,  the  son  and  the  mother  placed  the 
funds  given  them  by  Monsieur  d'Espard  in  the 
Funds  when  they  were  at  sixty  or  eighty.  1  believe 
that  their  income  must  amount  to  more  than  sixty 
thousand  francs.  The  son  has,  moreover,  some 
very  good  appointments." 

"If  they  expend  sixty  thousand  francs,"  said  the 
judge,  "how  much  do  you  spend  then?" 

"Why,"  replied  Madame  d'Espard,  "nearly  as 
much." 

The  chevalier  made  a  movement,  the  marchioness 
reddened,  Bianchon  looked  at  Rastignac,  but  the 
judge  maintained  an  air  of  simple  good  nature  which 
deceived  Madame  d'Espard.  The  chevalier  took  no 
further  interest  in  this  conversation,  he  saw  that 
everything  was  lost. 

"These  people,  madame, "  said  Popinot,  "can  be 
brought  before  the  criminal  courts." 

"Such  was  my  opinion,"  replied  the  marchioness, 
enchanted.  "If  they  had  been  threatened  with  the 
correctional  police,  they  would  have  come  to  terms. " 

"Madame,"  said  Popinot,  "when  Monsieur 
d'Espard  left  you,  did  he  not  give  you  a  power-of- 
attorneyto  manage  and  administer  your  property?" 

"1  do  not  understand  the  object  of  these  ques- 
tions," said  the  marchioness  with  some  heat.  "It 
seems  to  me  that,  if  you  should  take  into  con- 
sideration the  condition  in  which  I  am  left  by  my 


THE  INTERDICTION  303 

husband's  madness,  you  should  occupy  yourself  with 
him  and  not  with  me." 

"Madame,"  said  the  judge,  "we  are  coming  to  it. 
Before  confiding  to  you  or  to  others  the  administra- 
tion of  the  property  of  Monsieur  d'Espard,  if  he  should 
be  interdicted  from  managing  it  himself,  the  court 
should  be  informed  as  to  how  you  have  taken  care 
of  your  own.  If  Monsieur  d'Espard  had  given  you 
a  power-of-attorney,  he  would  have  shown  confi- 
dence in  you,  and  the  court  would  appreciate  this 
fact.  Have  you  had  his  power-of-attorney?  You 
may  have  purchased  and  sold  real  estate,  and  made 
investments?" 

"No,  monsieur;  the  Blamont-Chauvrys  are  not 
in  the  habit  of  going  into  business,"  she  replied 
quickly,  touched  in  her  pride  of  nobility  and  forget- 
ting all  about  her  case.  "My  property  has  remained 
intact,  and  Monsieur  d'Espard  did  not  give  me  his 
power-of-attorney. " 

The  chevalier  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes  to  con- 
ceal the  lively  vexation  caused  him  by  the  want  of 
foresight  of  his  sister-in-law,  who  was  ruining  her- 
self by  her  replies.  Popinot  had  gone  straight  to 
the  important  fact,  notwithstanding  all  the  detours 
of  his  interrogation. 

"Madame,"  said  the  judge,  pointing  to  the  chev- 
alier, "monsieur  doubtless  is  connected  with  you  by 
ties  of  relationship?  we  can  speak  openly  before 
these  gentlemen?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  marchioness,  astonished  at 
this  precaution. 


304  THE  INTERDICTION 

"Well,  madame,  I  concede  that  you  should  expend 
only  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  this  sum  will 
seem  well  employed  to  whoever  sees  your  stables, 
your  hotel,  your  numerous  domestics,  and  the  cus- 
toms of  a  household  the  luxury  of  which  seems  to  me 
to  be  superior  to  that  of  the  Jeanrenauds. " 

The  marchioness  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"Now,"  replied  the  judge,  "if  you  should  possess 
only  an  income  of  twenty-six  thousand  francs,  be- 
tween ourselves,  you  could  well  be  in  debt  to  the 
extent  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  The  court 
would  then  be  entitled  to  believe  that  there  existed 
in  the  motives  which  led  you  to  request  the  inter- 
diction of  monsieur  your  husband  some  personal 
interest,  some  need  of  meeting  your  debts,  if — you 
— have — any.  The  recommendations  which  have 
been  made  to  me  have  interested  me  in  your  situ- 
ation, examine  it  carefully,  make  your  statement. 
There  would  still  be  time,  in  case  my  suppositions 
should  prove  to  be  well  founded,  to  avoid  the  scan- 
dal of  a  reproach  which  it  would  be  within  the  attri- 
butes of  the  court  to  express  in  the  whereases  of  its 
decision,  if  you  should  not  render  your  position  clear 
and  well-defined.  We  are  obliged  to  examine  the 
motives  of  the  plaintiffs  as  well  as  to  listen  to  the 
defence  of  the  man  to  be  interdicted,  to  investigate 
if  the  petitioners  are  not  controlled  by  passions,  led 
astray  by  mercenary  motives  unfortunately  only  too 
common — " 

The  marchioness  was  on  Saint  Lawrence's  grid- 
iron. 


THE  INTERDICTION  305 

*' — And  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  have  explana- 
tions on  this  subject,"  said  the  judge.  "Madame, 
I  do  not  ask  to  have  an  accounting  from  you,  but 
only  to  know  how  you  have  managed  to  maintain 
an  establishment  of  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year, 
and  that  for  several  years.  There  are  a  great  many 
women  who  accomplish  this  feat  in  their  households, 
but  you  are  not  one  of  those  women.  Speak,  you 
may  have  very  legitimate  resources,  some  royal 
favors,  some  sources  of  income  from  the  indem- 
nities recently  awarded;  but,  in  that  case,  the 
authorization  of  your  husband  would  have  been 
necessary  to  have  enabled  you  to  receive  them." 

The  marchioness  was  mute. 

"Reflect,"  said  Popinot,  "that  Monsieur  d'Espard 
may  wish  to  defend  himself,  and  his  advocate  will 
have  the  right  to  investigate  to  ascertain  if  you  have 
any  creditors.  This  boudoir  has  been  recently  re- 
furnished, your  apartments  have  not  the  furniture 
which  Monsieur  le  Marquis  left  you  in  1816.  If,  as 
you  did  me  the  honor  to  inform  me,  furnishing  is 
costly  for  the  Jeanrenauds,  it  is  still  more  so  for 
you,  who  are  tine  grande  dame.  Although  I  am  a 
judge,  I  am  still  a  man,  I  may  be  deceived,  enlighten 
me.  Reflect  upon  the  duties  which  the  law  imposes 
upon  me,  upon  the  vigorous  research  which  it  re- 
quires, and  then  that  it  is  a  question  of  pronouncing 
the  interdiction  of  the  father  of  a  family,  in  the 
flower  of  his  age.  Therefore,  will  you  excuse,  Ma- 
dame la  Marquise,  the  objections  which  I  have  the 
honor  to  submit  to  you,  and  concerning  which  it  is 
20 


306  THE  INTERDICTION 

easy  for  you  to  give  me  some  explanations.  When 
a  man  is  interdicted  because  of  dementia,  a  trustee 
is  required;  who  will  be  the  trustee?" 

"His  brother,"  said  the  marchioness. 

The  chevalier  bowed.  There  was  a  moment  of 
silence  which  was  embarrassing  for  these  five  per- 
sons in  each  other's  company.  Without  appearing 
to  take  it  seriously,  the  judge  had  uncovered  this 
woman's  wound.  The  good-natured  bourgeois  coun- 
tenance of  Popinot,  at  which  the  marchioness,  the 
chevalier  and  Rastignac  had  been  disposed  to  laugh, 
had  acquired  in  their  eyes  its  true  physiognomy. 
In  looking  at  him  by  stealth,  all  three  of  them  per- 
ceived the  thousand  significations  of  that  eloquent 
mouth.  The  absurd  man  had  become  a  sagacious 
judge.  His  interest  in  examining  the  boudoir  was 
now  explained; — he  had  taken  the  gilded  elephant 
which  supported  the  mantel-clock  for  his  point  of 
departure  in  questioning  all  this  luxury,  and  he  had 
come  to  read  the  very  depths  of  this  woman's  heart. 

"If  the  Marquis  d'Espard  is  crazy  on  China," 
said  Popinot,  indicating  the  articles  on  the  chimney- 
piece,  "I  am  charmed  to  see  that  its  products  please 
you  equally.  But  perhaps  it  is  to  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis that  you  owe  the  charming  Chinese  things 
there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  precious  trifles. 

This  neat  jest  made  Bianchon  smile,  petrified 
Rastignac,  and  the  marchioness  bit  her  thin  lips. 

"Monsieur, "  said  Madame  d'Espard,  "instead  of 
being  the  defender  of  a  wife  placed  in  the  cruel 
alternative  of  seeing  her  fortune  and  her  children 


THE   INTERDICTION  307 

lost,  or  of  appearing  to  be  the  enemy  of  her  husband, 
you  accuse  me!  you  are  suspicious  of  my  inten- 
tions! You  must  admit  that  your  conduct  is 
strange — " 

"Madame,"  replied  the  judge  quickly,  "the  dis- 
cretion which  the  court  brings  to  these  cases  would 
have  given  you,  in  any  other  judge,  a  critic  perhaps 
less  indulgent  than  I  am.  Moreover,  do  you  believe 
that  Monsieur  d'Espard's  advocate  will  be  very 
considerate?  Will  he  not  be  sure  to  represent  in 
the  worst  light  intentions  that  maybe  pure  and  dis- 
interested? Your  life  will  all  be  open  to  him,  he 
will  investigate  it  without  bringing  to  his  researches 
the  respectful  deference  which  I  have  for  you." 

"Monsieur,  I  thank  you,"  replied  the  marchioness 
ironically.  "We  will  admit  for  the  moment  that  I 
owe  thirty  thousand,  fifty  thousand  francs,  that 
would  be,  in  the  first  place,  a  bagatelle  for  the 
houses  of  D'Espard  and  of  Blamont-Chauvry ;  but, 
if  my  husband  is  not  in  the  possession  of  his  intel- 
lectual faculties,  would  that  be  any  obstacle  to  his 
interdiction?" 

"No,  madame,"  said  Popinot. 

"Although  you  have  interrogated  me  with  a  crafty 
keenness  which  I  should  not  have  thought  to  find  in 
a  judge,  under  circumstances  in  which  frankness 
would  have  sufficed  to  learn  everything,"  she  re- 
sumed, "and  though  I  consider  myself  authorized  to 
say  nothing  more,  I  will  reply  to  you  without  cir- 
cumlocution that  my  position  in  the  world,  that  all 
these  efforts  made  to  preserve  my  relations  with  it, 


308  THE   INTERDICTION 

are  not  in  harmony  with  my  tastes.  I  began  life 
by  dwelling  for  a  long  time  in  solitude;  but  the 
interests  of  my  children  appealed  to  me,  1  felt  that 
I  should  make  an  effort  to  take  their  father's  place. 
By  receiving  my  friends,  by  maintaining  all  these 
relations,  by  contracting  these  debts,  I  have  secured 
their  future,  I  have  prepared  for  them  brilliant 
careers  in  which  they  will  fmd  aid  and  support; 
and,  in  order  to  secure  that  which  they  will  thus 
have  acquired,  many  shrewd  calculators,  magis- 
trates or  bankers,  would  willingly  have  paid  all  that 
it  has  cost  me." 

"I  appreciate  your  devotion,  madame,"  replied 
the  judge.  "It  does  honor  to  you,  and  I  in  no  wise 
blame  your  conduct.  The  magistrate  belongs  to  all ; 
he  should  be  acquainted  with  everything,  it  is 
necessary  for  him  to  weigh  everything." 

The  tact  of  the  marchioness  and  her  habit  of 
judging  men  enabled  her  to  perceive  that  Monsieur 
Popinot  could  not  be  influenced  by  any  considera- 
tion. She  had  counted  upon  some  ambitious  magis- 
trate, she  had  encountered  a  man  with  a  conscience. 
She  instantly  began  to  reflect  upon  other  methods  of 
securing  the  success  of  her  affair.  The  servants 
brought  in  the  tea. 

"Has  madame  any  other  explanations  to  give 
me?"  said  Popinot,  seeing  these  preparations. 

"Monsieur,"  she  replied  haughtily,  "carry  out 
your  commission;  examine  Monsieur  d'Espard,  and 
you  will  commiserate  me,  of  that  I  am  certain — " 

She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  Popinot  with 


THE  INTERDICTION  309 

mingled   pride   and    impertinence;    the   good    man 
bowed  to  her  respectfully. 

"He  is  very  fme,  your  uncle,"  said  Rastignac  to 
Bianchon.  "He  seems  to  understand  nothing  at 
all  ?  he  does  not  know  then  what  the  Marquise 
d'Espard  is,  he  is  ignorant  then  of  her  influence,  of 
her  occult  power  in  the  world  ?  She  will  have  in  her 
house  to-morrow  the  keeper  of  the  seals — " 

"My  dear  fellow,  what  would  you  have  me  do?" 
said  Bianchon;  "did  1  not  forewarn  you?  This  is 
not  a  man  to  be  cajoled." 

"No,"  said  Rastignac,  "he  is  a  man  to  be  sunk." 

The  doctor  was  obliged  to  bow  to  the  marchioness 
and  her  mute  chevalier  to  hasten  after  Popinot,  who, 
not  being  a  man  to  remain  in  an  awkward  situation, 
was  trotting  away  through  the  salons. 

"That  woman  owes  a  hundred  thousand  ecus," 
said  the  judge  as  he  got  into  his  nephew's  cabriolet. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  case?" 

"I,"  said  the  judge,  "I  never  have  any  opinion 
until  I  have  examined  both  sides.  To-morrow, 
early,  I  will  summon  Madame  Jeanrenaud  before  me, 
in  my  cabinet,  at  four  o'clock,  to  demand  some  ex- 
planations from  her,  on  the  facts  which  concern  her, 
for  she  is  compromised." 

"1  should  like  very  much  to  know  the  end  of  this 
affair." 

"Eh!  Mon  Dieu!  don't  you  see  that  the  mar- 
chioness is  only  the  tool  of  that  tall,  dry  man  who 
did  not  utter  a  word?  There  is  a  little  of  Cain  in 
him,  but   a   Cain    who   searches   his   club    in  the 


3IO  THE  INTERDICTION 

courts,  where,  unfortunately,  we  have  some  of  Sam- 
son's swords." 

"Ah!  Rastignac,"  exclaimed  Bianchon,  "what 
are  you  doing  in  that  company?" 

"We  are  accustomed  to  seeing  these  little  plots  in 
families;  not  a  year  elapses  that  requests  for  inter- 
diction are  not  non-suited.  According  to  our  cus- 
toms, no  one  is  dishonored  by  these  attempts; 
whilst  we  send  to  the  galleys  a  poor  devil  who  has 
broken  the  window  frame  which  separates  him 
from  a  wooden  bowl  full  of  gold  coins.  Our  Code 
is  not  without  its  defects." 

"But  the  facts  of  the  petition  ?" 

"My  boy,  you  are  evidently  unacquainted  with 
the  judicial  romances  which  the  clients  impose  upon 
their  attorneys.''  If  the  attorneys  condemned  them- 
selves to  present  nothing  but  the  truth,  they  would 
not  gain  the  interest  on  their  dues." 

The  next  day,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a 
fat  lady  with  a  sufficient  resemblance  to  a  cask  on 
which  some  one  had  put  a  dress  and  a  sash,  panted 
and  perspired  as  she  mounted  Judge  Popinot's  stair- 
case. She  had  with  great  difficulty  issued  from  a 
green  landau  which  suited  her  marvelously, — it 
would  be  impossible  to  conceive  of  the  woman 
without  the  landau,  or  of  the  landau  without  the 
woman. 

"It  is  I,  my  dear  monsieur,"  she  said,  presenting 
herself  at  the  door  of  the  judge's  cabinet,  "Madame 
Jeanrenaud,  whom  you  have  summoned  neither 
more  nor  less  than  if  she  were  a  thief." 


THE  INTERDICTION  31I 

These  inelegant  words  were  announced  in  an 
inelegant  voice,  scanned,  as  it  were,  by  tiie  invol- 
untary whistlings  of  an  asthma,  and  terminated  by 
an  attack  of  coughing. 

"When  I  go  through  damp  places,  you  would  not 
believe  how  I  suffer,  monsieur.  I  shall  not  make 
any  old  bones,  by  your  leave.     Well,  here  I  am." 

The  judge  was  quite  stupefied  at  the  aspect  of 
this  pretended  Marechale  d'Ancre.  Madame  Jean- 
renaud  had  a  face  pitted  with  an  infinite  number  of 
holes,  with  a  great  deal  of  color,  a  low  forehead,  a 
turned-up  nose,  a  face  as  round  as  a  ball,  for,  with 
this  good  woman,  everything  was  round.  She  had 
the  keen  eyes  of  a  country  woman,  a  frank  air,  a 
jovial  speech,  chestnut  hair  retained  by  a  false  cap 
under  a  green  hat  ornamented  with  an  old  tuft  of 
auriculas.  Her  voluminous  breasts  were  provo- 
cative of  mirth  and  inspired  fears  of  a  grotesque 
explosion  at  each  fit  of  coughing.  Her  great  legs 
were  of  that  species  that  cause  it  to  be  said  of  a 
woman  by  the  street  urchins  of  Paris,  that  she  is 
built  on  piles.  The  widow  wore  a  green  dress 
trimmed  with  chinchilla,  which  suited  her  like  a 
spot  of  wagon-grease  on  a  bride's  veil.  In  short, 
everything  about  her  was  in  accord  with  her  last 
words:     "Here  I  am!" 

"Madame,"  said  Popinot  to  her,  "you  are  sus- 
pected of  having  employed  means  of  seduction  upon 
Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Espard  in  order  to  procure  for 
yourself  considerable  sums  of  money." 

"Of  what!   of  what!"  she  said,  "of  seduction? 


312  THE   INTERDICTION 

But,  my  dear  monsieur,  you  are  a  respectable  man, 
and,  moreover,  as  a  magistrate,  you  should  have 
good  sense,  look  at  me!  Tell  me  if  I  am  a  woman 
to  seduce  anyone.  I  cannot  tie  my  shoestrings,  or 
stoop  down.  Here  it  is  now  twenty  years,  God  be 
praised,  since  I  have  been  able  to  put  on  a  corset 
under  penalty  of  sudden  death.  I  was  as  slender 
as  an  asparagus  at  sixteen,  and  pretty,  1  can  say  so 
to  you  to-day.  Then  I  married  Jeanrenaud,  an 
honest  man,  the  captain  of  a  salt  barge.  I  had  my 
son,  who  is  a  fine  fellow:  he  is  my  glory;  and, 
without  disparaging  myself,  he  is  the  best  thing  I 
have  done.  My  little  Jeanrenaud  was  a  soldier  to 
make  Napoleon  proud,  and  served  him  in  the  Im- 
perial Guard.  Alas!  the  death  of  my  husband,  who 
was  drowned,  changed  everything  for  me; — I  had 
the  small-pox,  I  remained  two  years  in  my  cham- 
ber, without  budging,  and  I  came  out  of  it  as  big  as 
you  see  me,  ugly  for  ever,  and  as  unhappy  as  the 
stones. — There  are  my  seductions!" 

"But,  madame,  what  motives  then  can  have  in- 
duced Monsieur  d'Espard  to  give  you  sums  that 
are — " 

'7«mense,  monsieur,  say  the  word,  I  am  quite 
willing;  but,  as  to  the  motives,  I  am  not  authorized 
to  declare  them." 

"You  would  be  in  the  wrong.  At  this  moment, 
his  family,  justly  disquieted,  are  about  to  see — " 

''Dieii  de  Dieu!"  said  the  good  woman  rising 
with  a  bound,  "is  he  liable  to  be  tormented  then 
or  my  account.?  the  king  of  men,  a  man  who  has 


THE  INTERDICTION  313 

not  his  equal !  Sooner  than  that  he  should  have 
the  slightest  vexation,  and,  I  dare  to  say  it,  one 
hair  the  less  on  his  head,  we  will  give  up  every- 
thing. Monsieur  le  Juge.  Put  that  down  on  your 
papers.  Dieii  de  Dieu!  I  will  run  and  tell  Jean- 
renaud  what  is  the  matter.  Ah!  this  is  a  nice 
business!" 

And  the  little  old  woman  rose,  went  out,  rolled 
down  the  stairway  and  disappeared. 

"She  does  not  lie,  that  woman,"  said  the  judge 
to  himself.  "Well,  to-morrow  I  shall  know  all,  for 
to-morrow  I  shall  go  to  see  the  Marquis  d'Espard." 

Those  who  have  passed  the  age  at  which  a  man 
expends  his  energies  at  random  are  aware  of  the 
influence  exerted  upon  important  events  by  actions 
that  are  in  appearance  immaterial,  and  will  not  be 
surprised  at  the  consequences  attending  the  slight 
incident  that  follows.  On  the  following  day,  Popi- 
not  had  a  coryza,  a  malady  unattended  by  any 
danger,  known  by  the  improper  and  ridiculous 
name  of  a  cold  in  the  head.  Unsuspicious  of  the 
seriousness  of  a  delay,  the  judge  who  had  a 
slight  fever,  kept  his  room  and  did  not  go  to  inter- 
rogate the  Marquis  d'Espard.  This  day  lost  was, 
in  this  affair,  what  on  "Dupes  Day"  was  the 
bouillon  taken  by  Marie  de  Medicis  which,  delaying 
her  conference  with  Louis  Xlll.,  permitted  Richelieu 
to  arrive  first  at  Saint-Germain  and  resume  posses- 
sion of  his  royal  captive.  Before  following  the 
magistrate  and  his  clerk  to  the  house  of  the  Marquis 
d'Espard,  perhaps  it  will  be  necessary  to  glance  at 


314  THE  INTERDICTION 

this  household,  at  its  interior  and  at  the  affairs  of 
this  father  of  a  family  represented  as  demented  in 
his  wife's  petition. 

There  are  to  be  met  with  here  and  there  in  the 
old  quarters  of  Paris  several  buildings  in  which  the 
arch^ologist  recognizes  a  certain  desire  to  ornament 
the  city,  and  that  pride  of  ownership  which  leads 
to  construction  with  a  view  to  durability.  The 
house  in  which  Monsieur  d'Espard  then  lived,  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve,  was  one  of 
these  antique  monuments  built  in  cut  stone,  and 
did  not  lack  for  a  certain  richness  in  the  archi- 
tecture; but  time  had  blackened  the  stone,  and 
the  city  revolutions  had  greatly  altered  it,  without 
and  within.  The  high  personages  who  had  formerly 
inhabited  the  quarter  of  the  Universite  having 
departed  with  the  great  ecclesiastical  institutions, 
this  dwelling  had  come  to  shelter  industries  and  in- 
habitants for  which  it  was  never  designed.  During 
the  last  century,  a  printing  office  had  ruined  the 
floors,  soiled  the  woodwork,  blackened  the  walls 
and  destroyed  the  principal  interior  arrangements. 
Formerly  the  hotel  of  a  cardinal,  this  noble  house 
was  at  present  delivered  over  to  obscure  lodgers. 
The  character  of  its  architecture  indicated  that  it 
had  been  built  during  the  reigns  of  Henri  III.  of 
Henri  IV.  and  of  Louis  XIII.  at  the  period  in  which 
were  constructed  in  the  neighborhood  the  hotels 
Mignon  and  Serpente,  the  palace  of  the  Princesse 
Palatine  and  the  Sorbonne.  One  old  man  remem- 
bered having  heard  it  called  in  the  last  century  the 


THE  INTERDICTION  31 5 

Hdtel  Duperron.  It  appeared  to  be  probable  that  this 
illustrious  cardinal  had  built  it,  or  at  least  had  lived 
in  it.  There  exists,  in  fact,  at  the  angle  of  the  court, 
a  perron  consisting  of  several  steps  by  which  the 
house  is  entered;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  interior 
fagade  there  is  another  perron  by  which  you  descend 
to  the  garden.  Notwithstanding  the  dilapidation, 
the  luxury  displayed  by  the  architect  in  the  balus- 
trades and  in  the  platforms  of  these  two  perrons 
reveals  the  ingenuous  intention  of  recalling  the 
name  of  the  proprietor,  a  species  of  sculptural  pun 
which  our  ancestors  frequently  permitted  to  them- 
selves. Finally,  in  support  of  this  testimony,  the 
arch^ologistsare  able  to  perceive  in  the  tympanums 
which  ornament  the  two  principal  facades,  some 
traces  of  the  cords  of  the  Roman  hat.  Monsieur  le 
Marquis  d'Espard  occupied  the  ground  floor,  doubtless 
in  order  to  have  the  use  of  the  garden,  which  might 
pass  as  being  spacious  for  this  quarter  and  which 
faced  the  south,  two  advantages  required  for  the 
health  of  his  children.  The  situation  of  the  house, 
in  a  street  the  name  of  which  indicates  its  steep 
slope,  secured  for  this  ground  floor  a  sufficiently 
great  elevation  to  preserve  it  against  any  dampness. 
Monsieur  d'Espard  should  have  been  able  to  lease  his 
apartment  for  a  very  modest  sum,  rents  being  low  at 
the  period  at  which  he  came  into  this  quarter  so  as  to 
be  in  the  vicinity  of  the  colleges  and  to  be  able  to 
supervise  the  education  of  his  children.  Moreover, 
the  condition  in  which  the  property  was  at  the  time, 
with    everything  out    of   repair,    had   necessarily 


3l6  THE   INTERDICTION 

obliged  the  landlord  to  show  himself  very  accommo- 
dating. Monsieur  d'Espard  had  thus,  without  lay- 
ing himself  open  to  any  charge  of  lack  of  judgment, 
been  able  to  expend  some  money  on  his  dwelling  in 
order  to  establish  himself  comfortably.  The  height 
of  the  rooms,  their  disposition,  their  wainscotings, 
the  framework  of  which  alone  remained,  the  con- 
struction of  the  ceilings,  everything  breathed  some- 
thing of  that  grandeur  which  the  priesthood  has 
imprinted  on  all  things  undertaken  or  created  by  it, 
and  which  the  artists  find  to-day  in  the  slightest 
fragments  remaining  of  it,  be  it  only  a  book,  a 
garment,  a  library  panel  or  some  armchair.  The 
painting  which  the  marquis  had  had  done  offered 
those  brown  tones  loved  by  the  Hollanders,  by  the 
ancient  Parisian  bourgeoisie,  and  which  furnish  to- 
day such  excellent  effects  to  the  painters  of  genre. 
The  panels  were  covered  with  a  plain  paper  which 
harmonized  with  the  painting.  The  windows  were 
furnished  with  curtains  of  an  inexpensive  material, 
which  had  been  chosen  with  a  view  of  complet- 
ing the  general  unity  of  the  effect.  The  pieces 
of  furniture  were  rare,  and  well  placed.  Whoever 
entered  this  dwelling  could  not  resist  a  gentle  and 
peaceful  feeling,  inspired  by  the  profound  calm,  by 
the  silence  which  there  reigned,  by  the  modesty 
and  the  unity  of  the  color — using  this  expression  in 
the  sense  in  which  it  is  employed  by  the  painters. 
A  certain  nobility  in  the  details,  the  exquisite  clean- 
liness of  the  furniture,  a  perfect  accord  between  the 
things  and  the  inhabitants,  everything  brought  to 


THE   INTERDICTION  317 

the  lips  the  word  agreeable.  But  very  few  persons 
were  admitted  into  these  apartments  inhabited  by 
the  marquis  and  his  two  sons,  the  existence  of  whom 
might  seem  mysterious  to  all  the  neighborhood.  In 
a  part  of  the  main  building  at  right  angles  with  the 
street,  on  the  third  floor,  there  are  three  large  rooms 
which  remained  in  the  state  of  dilapidation  and  the 
grotesque  bareness  in  which  the  printing  office  had 
left  them.  These  three  rooms,  set  apart  for  the 
preparation  of  the  Picturesque  History  of  China,  were 
arranged  in  such  a  manner  as  to  contain  an  office, 
a  store-room,  and  a  cabinet  in  which  Monsieur 
d'Espard  remained  during  a  part  of  the  day;  for, 
after  the  dejeuner,  until  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, the  marquis  occupied  his  cabinet  on  the  third 
floor,  to  supervise  the  publication  which  he  had 
undertaken.  His  visitors  usually  found  him  there. 
His  two  children,  on  their  return  from  their  classes, 
frequently  ascended  to  this  office.  The  apartment 
on  the  ground  floor  thus  formed  a  sanctuary  in 
which  the  father  and  his  sons  remained  from  dinner- 
time until  the  next  day.  His  family  life  was  thus 
carefully  secluded.  Of  servants,  he  had  only  a 
cook,  an  old  woman  who  had  long  been  attached  to 
his  family,  and  a  valet  de  chambre  of  the  age  of 
forty,  who  had  served  him  before  he  had  married 
Mademoiselle  de  Blamont.  The  children's  govern- 
ess had  remained  with  them.  The  minute  care 
shown  by  the  aspect  of  the  apartment  revealed  the 
spirit  of  order,  the  maternal  love  which  this  woman 
displayed   in   the   interests  of  her   master   in  the 


3l8  THE   INTERDICTION 

management  of  his  house  and  in  the  government  of 
his  children.  Grave  and  taciturn,  these  three  hon- 
est servitors  seemed  to  have  comprehended  the 
ideas  which  directed  the  inward  life  of  the  marquis. 
This  contrast  between  their  habits  and  those  of  the 
greater  number  of  valets  constituted  a  singularity 
which  threw  over  this  household  an  air  of  mystery, 
and  which  contributed  greatly  to  the  calumny  for 
which  Monsieur  d'Espard  himself  furnished  occa- 
sion. Praiseworthy  motives  had  induced  him  to 
form  a  resolution  not  to  associate  with  any  of  the 
other  inmates  of  the  house.  In  undertaking  the 
education  of  his  children,  he  wished  to  preserve 
them  from  all  contact  with  strangers.  Perhaps  also 
he  wished  to  avoid  being  wearied  by  his  neighbors. 
With  a  man  of  his  quality,  at  a  time  when  the  Latin 
Quarter  was  particularly  agitated  by  Liberalism, 
this  conduct  naturally  excited  against  him  small 
animosities,  feelings,  the  silliness  of  which  is  com- 
parable only  with  their  baseness,  and  which  are 
begotten  by  the  gossip  of  porters,  venomous  gabbling 
from  door  to  door,  of  which  Monsieur  d'Espard  and 
his  household  remained  ignorant.  His  valet  de  cham- 
bre  passed  for  a  Jesuit,  his  cook  was  a  sly  plotter, 
the  governess  had  an  understanding  with  Madame 
Jeanrenaud  to  plunder  the  lunatic.  The  luna- 
tic, that  was  the  marquis.  The  other  lodgers  came 
gradually  to  attribute  to  folly  a  number  of  things 
observed  in  Monsieur  d'Espard  and  sifted  through 
their  appreciation  without  their  being  able  to  find 
any   reasonable   motives  for  them.     Having  very 


THE   INTERDICTION  319 

little  faith  in  the  success  of  his  publication  upon 
China,  they  had  finally  persuaded  the  landlord  that 
Monsieur  d'Espard  was  without  means,  at  the  very 
moment  when,  by  an  oversight  committed  by  very 
many  busy  persons,  he  had  allowed  the  receiver  of 
taxes  to  send  him  a  writ  for  the  payment  of  his  dues 
in  arrears.  The  landlord  had  at  the  same  time 
claimed  his  rent  from  the  first  of  January  by  the 
despatch  of  a  receipt  which  the  porter's  wife  had 
amused  herself  by  not  delivering.  On  the  fifteenth 
of  the  month,  a  summons  to  pay  having  been  served, 
the  portress  had  tardily  communicated  with  Mon- 
sieur d'Espard,  who  thought  this  to  be  some  mis- 
understanding, without  believing  in  the  uncivil  be- 
havior of  a  man  in  whose  house  he  had  been  living 
for  twelve  years.  The  marquis  had  his  property 
seized  by  a  bailiff  at  the  moment  when  his  valet 
was  carrying  the  money  for  the  rent  to  the  proprie- 
tor. This  seizure,  insidiously  communicated  to 
those  with  whom  he  was  in  business  relations  for 
his  publication,  had  alarmed  some  of  them  who  were 
already  in  doubt  as  to  the  solvency  of  Monsieur 
d'Espard,  because  of  the  enormous  sums  which,  it 
was  said,  were  drawn  from  him  by  the  Baron  Jean- 
renaud  and  his  mother.  The  suspicions  of  the 
lodgers,  of  the  creditors  and  of  the  landlord  were, 
moreover,  almost  justified  by  the  great  economy 
which  the  marquis  displayed  in  his  living  expenses. 
He  carried  himself  like  a  ruined  man.  His  domes- 
tics paid  cash  in  the  quarter  for  the  slightest  objects 
purchased  for  daily  consumption,    and  acted  like 


320  THE   INTERDICTION 

persons  who  wish  no  credit;  if  they  had  asked  for 
anything  whatever  upon  promise  to  pay,  they 
would  perhaps  have  been  refused,  so  much  had  the 
slanderous  gossip  obtained  credit  in  the  quarter. 
There  are  tradesmen  who  like  those  of  their  cus- 
tomers who  pay  slowly  but  who  permit  of  a  friendly 
intercourse;  whilst  they  hate  those,  otherwise  ex- 
cellent, who  keep  themselves  at  such  a  distance  as 
to  avoid  all  familiarity.  Men  are  thus  constituted. 
In  almost  all  classes  of  society,  they  offer  facilities  to 
those  connected  by  slight  ties  or  to  base  souls  that 
flatter  them,  favors  refused  to  the  superiority  that 
v/ounds  them,  in  whatever  manner  it  reveals  itself. 
The  shopkeeper  who  clamors  against  the  Court  has 
his  own  courtiers.  In  short,  the  daily  habits  of 
the  marquis  and  his  children  aroused  naturally  the 
evil  dispositions  of  their  neighbors,  and  insensibly 
urged  them  on  to  that  degree  of  malice  in  which 
persons  recoil  before  no  act  of  baseness  that  may 
injure  the  enemy  whom  they  have  created  for 
themselves.  Monsieur  d'Espard  was  a  gentil- 
homme,  as  his  wife  was  a  grande  dame, — two  mag- 
nificent types,  already  so  rare  in  France  that  the 
observer  may  readily  enumerate  all  those  that  offer 
a  complete  realization  of  it.  These  two  personages 
are  based  upon  primitive  ideas,  upon  beliefs  that 
are,  so  to  speak,  innate,  upon  habits  acquired  in 
company,  and  which  no  longer  exist.  To  believe  in 
blue  blood,  in  a  privileged  race,  to  place  one's  self 
in  thought  above  other  men,  is  it  not  necessary  to 
have  measured  from  birth  the  space  which  separates 


THE  INTERDICTION  32 1 

the  patricians  from  the  people?  To  command,  is  it 
not  necessary  to  have  known  no  equals  ?  Is  it  not 
necessary,  in  short,  that  education  should  inculcate 
the  ideas  with  which  nature  inspires  the  great  men 
upon  whose  brows  she  had  placed  a  crown  before 
their  mothers  could  there  press  a  kiss  ?  These  ideas 
and  this  education  are  no  longer  possible  in  France, 
where,  for  the  last  forty  years,  chance  has  arrogated 
to  itself  the  right  of  making  nobles  by  dipping  them 
in  the  blood  of  battle-fields,  by  gilding  them  with 
glory,  by  crowning  them  with  the  aureole  of  genius ; 
where  the  abolition  of  entail  and  of  majorats,  by 
crumbling  up  the  estates,  obliges  the  noble  to  occupy 
himself  with  his  own  affairs  instead  of  with  those 
of  the  State,  and  where  personal  grandeur  can  no 
longer  be  anything  but  a  grandeur  acquired  by  long 
and  patient  labors, — an  era  completely  new.  Con- 
sidered as  a  remnant  of  that  great  body  called 
Feudalism,  Monsieur  d'Espard  was  entitled  to  a 
respectful  admiration.  If  he  believed  himself 
elevated  by  birth  above  other  men,  he  believed 
equally  in  all  the  obligations  of  nobility;  he  pos- 
sessed the  virtues  and  the  strength  which  it  re- 
quires. He  had  educated  his  children  in  his 
principles,  and  had  communicated  to  them  from  the 
cradle  the  religion  of  his  caste.  A  profound  senti- 
ment of  their  own  dignity,  the  pride  of  their  name, 
the  certainty  of  being  great  in  themselves,  engen- 
dered in  them  a  royal  pride,  the  courage  of  the 
paladins  and  the  protecting  bounty  of  the  lords  of 
the  manor;  their  manners,  in  accord  with  their 
21 


322  THE   INTERDICTION 

ideas,  and  which  would  have  seemed  admirable  in 
the  company  of  princes,  offended  all  the  world  of 
the  Rue  de  la  Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve,  a  land  of 
equality  if  there  were  any,  where,  moreover,  Mon- 
sieur d'Espard  was  believed  to  be  ruined,  where, 
from  the  very  meanest  up  to  the  greatest,  everyone 
refused  the  privileges  of  nobility  to  a  noble  without 
money, — for  the  reason  that  each  allowed  them  to  be 
assumed  by  burghers  grown  rich.  Thus  the  want 
of  intercourse,  spiritual  and  physical,  between  this 
family  and  those  around  it,  was  complete. 

With  the  father  as  well  as  with  the  children,  the 
outward  aspect  and  the  soul  within  were  in  harmony. 
Monsieur  d'Espard,  then  about  fifty  years  of  age, 
might  have  served  for  a  type  to  express  the  noble 
aristocracy  of  the  nineteenth  century.  He  was 
slender  and  blond;  his  countenance  had,  in  the 
outline  and  in  the  general  expression,  a  native  dis- 
tinction which  revealed  elevated  sentiments;  but  it 
bore  the  imprint  of  an  intended  coldness  which 
commanded  respect  a  little  too  austerely.  His 
aquiline  nose,  slightly  twisted  at  the  end  from  left  to 
right,  a  slight  deviation  which  was  not  unattrac- 
tive ;  his  blue  eyes,  his  high  forehead,  sufficiently 
advanced  at  the  eyebrows  to  form  a  heavy  projec- 
tion which  caught  the  light,  thereby  shading  the 
eye,  indicated  an  upright  spirit,  capable  of  perse- 
verance, a  grand  loyalty,  but  gave  at  the  same  time 
a  strange  aspect  to  his  physiognomy.  This  flexure 
in  the  forehead  might  well  have  been  taken,  in 
fact,  as  an  indication  of  a  slight  degree  of  mental 


THE   INTERDICTION  323 

unsoundness,  and  his  thick  eyebrows  which  joined 
added  something  more  to  this  apparent  oddness. 
He  had  the  white  and  carefully  cared-for  hand  of  a 
gentleman,  his  feet  were  narrow  and  arched.  His 
speech  was  undecided,  not  only  in  the  pronunciation, 
which  resembled  that  of  a  stammerer,  but  also  in 
the  expression  of  his  ideas,  his  thoughts  and  his 
manner  of  speaking  produced  in  the  hearer's  mind 
the  effect  of  a  man  who  comes  and  goes,  who,  to 
employ  a  familiar  expression,  meddles,  tries  at 
everything,  interrupts  himself  in  his  gestures,  and 
accomplishes  nothing.  This  defect,  purely  exterior, 
was  in  strong  contrast  with  the  decision  expressed 
by  his  firmly  closed  mouth,  with  the  sharply  cut 
character  of  his  physiognomy.  His  walk,  which 
was  slightly  jerky,  suited  his  manner  of  speech. 
These  singularities  served  to  corroborate  his  as- 
serted dementia.  Notwithstanding  his  elegance,  he 
was  systematically  economical  concerning  his  own 
person,  and  wore  for  three  or  four  years  the  same 
black  frock  coat,  brushed  with  an  extreme  care  by 
his  old  valet  de  chambre.  As  to  his  children,  they 
were  both  handsome  and  endowed  with  a  grace 
which  did  not  exclude  the  expression  of  an  aristo- 
cratic disdain.  They  had  that  lively  color,  that 
freshness  in  the  regard,  that  transparency  of  the 
flesh,  which  reveal  pure  habits,  an  exact  regimen, 
regular  habits  of  work  and  of  amusement  Both 
had  black  hair  and  blue  eyes,  the  nose  twisted 
like  their  father's;  but  it  was  their  mother  perhaps 
who  had  transmitted  to  them  that  dignity  of  speech, 


324  THE   INTERDICTION 

of  look,  and  of  bearing,  which  is  hereditary  in  the 
Blamont-Chauvrys.  Their  voices,  clear  as  crystal, 
had  the  power  to  move  their  hearers  and  that  soft- 
ness which  exercises  such  powers  of  seduction ;  in 
short,  they  had  the  voice  which  a  woman  would 
have  wished  to  hear  after  she  had  received  the  flame 
of  their  looks.  They  preserved,  above  all,  the 
modesty  of  their  pride,  a  chaste  reserve,  a  noli  me 
tangere  which,  later,  might  have  seemed  to  be  cal- 
culated, so  much  did  their  aspect  inspire  the  desire 
to  know  them.  The  elder,  the  Comte  Clement  de 
Negrepelisse,  had  just  entered  his  sixteenth  year. 
For  the  last  two  years  he  had  abandoned  the  pretty 
little  English  vest  which  his  brother,  the  Vicomte 
Camille  d'Espard,  still  wore.  The  count,  who, 
within  the  last  six  months,  had  ceased  going  to  the 
College  Henri  IV.,  was  dressed  as  a  young  man  en- 
joying the  first  pleasures  of  a  high  position.  His 
father  had  not  wished  to  impose  upon  him  a  use- 
less year  of  philosophy,  he  endeavored  to  give  to 
his  accomplishments  a  sort  of  bond  by  the  study  of 
the  higher  mathematics.  At  the  same  time  the 
marquis  instructed  him  in  the  Oriental  languages, 
the  diplomatic  law  of  Europe,  heraldry,  and  history 
from  the  great  sources,  history  in  the  charters,  in 
authentic  documents,  in  the  collections  of  ordi- 
nances. Camille  had  lately  taken  up  the  study  of 
rhetoric. 

The  day  on  which  Popinot  proposed  to  himself  to 
go  and  interrogate  Monsieur  d'Espard  was  a  Thurs- 
day, a  holiday.      Before  their  father  had  arisen. 


THE  INTERDICTION  325 

about  nine  o'clock,  the  two  brothers  were  amusing 
themselves  in  the  garden.  Clement  was  defending 
himself  ineffectively  against  the  urgency  of  his 
brother,  who  wished  to  go  shooting  for  the  first 
time,  and  who  desired  his  support  in  the  request 
he  was  going  to  make  to  his  father.  The  viscount 
always  made  a  little  too  much  of  his  weakness,  and 
often  took  pleasure  in  contesting  with  his  brother. 
Both  of  them  now  fell  to  quarreling  and  to  fighting 
in  sport,  like  two  schoolboys.  As  they  ran  about 
the  garden,  one  after  the  other,  they  made  noise 
enough  to  waken  their  father,  who  came  to  the 
window  without  being  perceived  by  them,  so  warm 
was  the  combat.  The  marquis  pleased  himself  by 
looking  at  his  two  children  who  were  turning  in  and 
out  like  two  serpents,  and  showed  in  their  faces  the 
animation  caused  by  the  exercise  of  their  faculties; 
— their  countenances  were  white  and  pink,  their 
eyes  shot  light,  their  arms  and  legs  twisted  about 
like  cords  in  the  fire;  they  fell  down,  rose  again, 
renewed  their  forces  like  two  athletes  in  the  arena, 
and  gave  to  their  father  one  of  those  happinesses 
which  recompense  for  the  keenest  pains  of  an 
agitated  life.  Two  persons,  one  on  the  second,  the 
other  on  the  first  floor  of  the  house,  looked  out  in 
the  garden,  and  said  that  the  old  lunatic  was 
amusing  himself  by  making  his  children  fight. 
Immediately  several  heads  appeared  at  the  win- 
dows; the  marquis  perceived  them,  said  a  word  to 
his  children,  who,  quickly  climbing  up  to  his  win- 
dow, leaped  into  his  chamber,  and  Clement  obtained 


326  THE   INTERDICTION 

the  permission  asked  for  by  Camille.  In  the  house, 
nothing  was  heard  of  but  the  new  proof  of  the  mar- 
quis's lunacy. 

When  Popinot,  accompanied  by  his  clerk,  presented 
himself  about  noon  at  the  door,  where  he  asked 
for  Monsieur  d'Espard,  the  portress  conducted  him 
up  to  the  third  floor,  relating  on  the  way  how  Mon- 
sieur d'Espard,  no  later  than  that  very  morning, 
had  caused  his  children  to  fight,  and  had  laughed 
like  the  monster  that  he  was,  on  seeing  the  younger 
bite  the  elder  till  he  bled,  and  how,  doubtless,  he 
wished  to  see  them  destroy  each  other. 

"If  you  ask  me  why!"  she  added,  "he  does  not 
know,  himself." 

As  she  uttered  this  definite  statement,  she  brought 
the  judge  to  the  third  landing  of  the  stairway,  in 
front  of  a  door  placarded  with  posters  which  an- 
nounced the  issue  of  the  successive  parts  of  the 
Picturesque  History  of  China.  This  muddy  landing, 
this  dirty  hand-rail,  this  door  on  which  the  print- 
ing trade  had  left  its  black  marks,  this  broken 
window  and  these  ceilings  on  which  the  appren- 
tices had  amused  themselves  by  designing  mon- 
strosities with  the  smoky  flame  of  their  candles, 
the  collection  of  paper  and  rubbish  piled  up  in  the 
corner,  either  purposely  or  through  carelessness;  in 
short,  all  the  details  of  this  picture  which  presented 
itself  to  the  eye,  were  so  in  accord  with  the  facts 
alleged  by  the  marchioness  that,  notwithstanding 
his  impartiality,  the  judge  could  not  but  believe 
them. 


THE   INTERDICTION  327 

"Here  you  are,  messieurs,"  said  the  portress, 
"here  is  the  manifactiire  where  the  Chinese  eat  up 
what  would  nourish  the  whole  quarter." 

The  clerk  looked  at  the  judge  and  smiled,  and 
Popinot  had  some  trouble  to  maintain  his  own 
gravity.  They  both  entered  the  first  room,  in 
which  they  found  an  old  man  who  doubtless  served 
at  once  as  attendant  in  the  office,  as  attendant  in  the 
storeroom  and  as  cashier.  This  old  man  was  the 
Maitre  Jacques  de  la  Chine.  The  walls  of  this 
room  were  furnished  with  long  planks  on  which 
were  piled  up  the  published  sections  of  the  work. 
At  the  back,  a  wooden  partition  and  open-work 
screen  furnished  with  a  green  curtain  on  the  in- 
terior, shut  off  a  cabinet.  An  opening  through 
which  the  ecus  were  intended  to  be  received  or 
passed  out,  indicated  the  cashier's  seat 

"Monsieur  d'Espard?"  said  Popinot,  addressing 
this  man,  who  wore  a  gray  blouse. 

The  attendant  opened  the  door  of  the  second 
chamber,  in  which  the  magistrate  and  his  clerk  per- 
ceived a  venerable  old  man  with  white  hair,  dressed 
simply,  decorated  with  the  cross  of  Saint-Louis, 
seated  before  a  desk,  who  interrupted  his  occupa- 
tion of  comparing  sheets  of  colored  paper  to  look 
up  at  the  two  visitors.  This  room  was  a  modest 
office,  filled  with  books  and  proofs.  There  was  in 
it  a  table  of  black  wood  at  which  doubtless  worked 
some  person  now  absent. 

"Monsieur  is  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Espard?" 
asked  Popinot. 


328  THE   INTERDICTION 

"No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  old  man,  rising. 
"Wliat  do  you  wisii  with  him?"  he  added,  advanc- 
ing toward  them,  and  giving  evidence  by  his  manner 
of  the  refined  habits  and  customs  of  a  gentleman. 

"We  wish  to  speak  with  him  concerning  matters 
which  are  strictly  personal,"  replied  Popinot. 

"D'Espard,  here  are  some  messieurs  who  wish  to 
see  you,"  said  this  old  man,  entering  the  last  apart- 
ment in  which  the  marquis  was  occupied  in  reading 
the  newspapers  at  the  corner  of  the  fire. 

This  last  cabinet  had  a  worn  carpet,  the  windows 
were  furnished  with  curtains  of  gray  linen;  there 
were  only  some  mahogany  chairs,  two  armchairs,  a 
cylinder  secretary,  a  desk  a  la  Tronchin,  and  on  the 
mantel  a  shabby  clock  and  two  old  candelabras. 
The  old  man  preceded  Popinot  and  his  clerk,  pushed 
forward  two  chairs  for  them  as  if  he  were  the  master 
of  the  house,  and  Monsieur  d'Espard  permitted  him 
to  do  so.  After  the  respective  salutations,  during 
which  the  judge  narrowly  observed  the  alleged  luna- 
tic, the  marquis  naturally  inquired  the  object  of  their 
visit.  At  this,  Popinot  looked  at  the  old  man  and 
at  the  marquis  with  a  sufficiently  significative  air. 

"I  believe.  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that  the  nature 
of  my  functions  and  the  inquiry  which  brings  me 
here  require  that  we  should  be  alone,  although  in 
the  spirit  of  the  law,  in  these  cases,  the  interroga- 
tory receives  a  sort  of  domestic  publicity.  I  am 
judge  of  the  Inferior  Civil  Court  for  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Seine,  and  am  commissioned  by  Mon- 
sieur   le    President  to  interrogate  you  concerning 


THE  INTERDICTION  329 

the  facts  set  forth    in  a  petition   for    interdiction 
presented  by  Madame  la  Marquise  d'Espard." 

The  old  man  withdrew.  When  the  judge  and 
his  witness  were  alone,  the  clerk  closed  the  door, 
established  himself  without  ceremony  at  the  desk 
a  la  Tronchin,  where  he  unrolled  his  papers  and  pre- 
pared his  proces-verhal.  Popinot  had  not  ceased  to 
observe  Monsieur  d'Espard, — he  watched  the  effect 
upon  him  of  this  declaration,  so  wounding  to  a 
reasoning  man.  The  Marquis  d'Espard,  whose  face 
was  ordinarily  pale,  as  are  those  of  blond  persons, 
became  suddenly  red  with  anger,  he  shook  slightly, 
sat  down,  placed  his  newspaper  on  the  mantel,  and 
lowered  his  eyes.  He  resumed  immediately  his 
dignity  of  the  gentleman,  and  looked  at  the  judge, 
as  if  to  seek  in  his  countenance  the  indication  of 
his  character. 

"How  is  it,  monsieur,  that  I  have  not  been  noti- 
fied of  such  a  petition.?"  he  asked. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,  the  persons  whose  inter- 
diction is  requested,  not  being  considered  to  be  in 
the  possession  of  their  reason,  the  notification  of  the 
petition  is  useless.  The  duty  of  the  tribunal  is  to 
verify,  before  everything,  the  allegations  of  the 
petitioners." 

"Nothing  can  be  more  just,"  replied  the  marquis. 
"Well,  monsieur,  will  you  indicate  to  me  the  man- 
ner in  which  1  should  proceed — " 

"You  have  only  to  reply  to  my  questions,  omit- 
ting no  details.  However  delicate  may  be  the 
reasons  which  have  led  you  to  act  in  the  manner 


330  THE   INTERDICTION 

which  has  given  Madame  d'Espard  the  pretext  for 
her  petition,  speak  without  fear.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  observe  to-  you  that  the  magistracy  is  aware  of 
its  duties,  and  that  under  similar  circumstances  the 
most  profound  secrecy — " 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  marquis,  whose  features 
expressed  a  keen  pain,  "if  from  my  explanations 
there  should  ensue  some  censure  for  the  line  of  con- 
duct pursued  by  Madame  d'Espard,  what  would 
happen?" 

"The  Court  might  express  a  censure  in  the 
reasons  given  for  its  judgment." 

"Is  this  censure  optional?  If  I  should  stipulate 
with  you,  before  replying  to  you,  that  nothing  in- 
jurious to  Madame  d'Espard  should  be  set  forth  in 
case  your  report  should  be  favorable  to  me,  would 
the  Court  take  into  consideration  my  request?" 

The  judge  looked  at  the  marquis,  and  these  two 
men  exchanged  sentiments  of  an  equal  nobility. 

"Noel,"  said  Popinot  to  his  clerk,  "retire  to 
the  next  room.  If  1  have  need  of  you,  I  will  call 
you. — If,  as  1  am  at  this  moment  inclined  to  be- 
lieve," he  resumed,  addressing  the  marquis  when 
the  clerk  had  left  them,  "there  should  be  encoun- 
tered in  this  affair  some  misunderstandings,  I  can 
promise  you,  monsieur,  that,  on  your  request,  the 
tribunal  would  act  with  courtesy.  There  is  a  first 
fact,  alleged  by  Madame  d'Espard,  the  gravest  of 
all,  and  concerning  which  I  entreat  you  to  enlighten 
me,"  said  the  judge,  after  a  pause.  "It  is  a  ques- 
tion of  the  dissipation  of  your  fortune  for  the  benefit 


THE  INTERDICTION  33 1 

of  a  Dame  Jeanrenaud,  the  widow  of  a  captain  of 
a  barge,  or  rather,  for  the  benefit  of  her  son,  the 
colonel,  whom  you  have  placed,  for  whom  you  have 
exhausted  the  favor  in  which  you  are  held  by  the 
king,  in  short,  for  whom  you  have  extended  your 
protection  so  far  as  to  procure  him  a  fine  marriage. 
The  request  causes  it  to  be  thought  that  this  friend- 
ship exceeds  in  devotion  all  natural  sentiments, 
even  those  reproved  by  morality — " 

A  sudden  flush  invaded  the  cheeks  and  the  brow 
of  the  marquis,  there  even  came  tears  into  his  eyes, 
his  lashes  were  moist;  then  a  just  pride  suppressed 
this  evidence  of  feeling  which,  in  a  man,  is  taken  for 
weakness. 

"In  truth,  monsieur,"  he  replied  in  an  altered 
voice,  "you  place  me  in  a  strange  perplexity.  The 
motives  of  my  conduct  were  condemned  to  die  with 
me. — To  speak  of  them,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  discover 
to  you  secret  wounds,  deliver  up  to  you  the  honor 
of  my  family,  and — a  delicate  thing  which  you  will 
appreciate — speak  of  myself.  I  hope,  monsieur,  that 
everything  will  remain  secret  between  us.  You  will 
know  how  to  find  in  the  judicial  methods  a  form 
which  will  permit  you  to  draw  up  a  decision  without 
there  being  in  it  any  question  of  my  revelations — " 

"In  this  connection,  everything  is  possible,  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Monsieur  d'Espard,  "some  time 
after  my  marriage,  my  wife  had  expended  such 
sums  that  I  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  a  loan. 
You  are  acquainted  with  the  condition  of  the  noble 


332  THE   INTERDICTION 

families  during  the  Revolution?  I  was  not  per- 
mitted to  have  either  an  intendant  or  a  man  of 
business.  To-day,  noblemen  are,  nearly  all  of 
them,  obliged  to  look  after  their  own  business 
affairs.  The  greater  number  of  my  titles  to  prop- 
erty had  been  brought  from  Languedoc,  from  Pro- 
vence or  from  Comtat  to  Paris  by  my  father,  who 
feared,  with  sufficient  reason,  the  investigations 
which  the  family  titles,  and  what  were  then  called 
the  parchments  of  the  privileged,  would  draw  down 
on  their  proprietors.  We  were  Negrepelisses  in  our 
own  name.  D'Espard  is  a  title  acquired  under 
Henri  IV.  by  an  alliance  which  gave  us  the  property 
and  the  titles  of  the  house  D'Espard,  on  condition  of 
placing  in  the  middle  of  the  shield  in  our  arms  the 
coat-of-arms  of  the  D'Espards,  an  old  family  of 
Beam,  allied  to  the  house  D'Albret  through  the 
wives, — gold,  three  pales  sable,  quartered  with  a^ure 
with  two  griffins^  claws  argent  armed  gules  posed 
saltier  with  the  famous  Des  Partem  LEONIS 
for  device.  In  the  days  of  this  alliance  we 
lost  Negrepelisse,  a  little  city  as  celebrated  during 
the  religious  wars  as  was  my  ancestor  who  then 
bore  the  name.  The  Capitaine  de  Negrepelisse 
was  ruined  by  the  conflagration  of  his  property,  for 
the  Protestants  did  not  spare  a  friend  of  Montluc. 
The  Crown  was  unjust  to  Monsieur  de  Negrepelisse, 
he  received  neither  the  baton  of  marshal,  nor  com- 
mand, nor  indemnity;  the  king  Charles  IX.,  who 
loved  him,  died  without  having  been  able  to  recom- 
pense  him;    Henri    IV.    indeed   brought  about  his 


THE  INTERDICTION  333 

marriage  with  Mademoiselle  d'Espard,  and  secured 
for  him  the  domains  of  that  house;  but  all  the  prop- 
erty of  the  N^grepelisse  had  already  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  creditors.  My  great-grandfather,  the 
Marquis  d'Espard,  was,  like  myself,  placed  at  an 
early  age  at  the  head  of  his  family  by  the  death  of 
his  father,  who,  after  having  dissipated  his  wife's 
fortune,  left  her  only  the  entailed  lands  of  the  house 
D'Espard,  which,  moreover,  were  burdened  with  a 
jointure.  The  young  Marquis  d'Espard  found  him- 
self all  the  more  crippled  that  he  had  a  position  at 
Court.  Particularly  esteemed  by  Louis  XIV.,  the 
king's  favor  was  to  him  a  brevet  of  fortune.  Here, 
monsieur,  there  was  thrown  upon  our  coat-of-arms 
a  horrible,  unheard-of  spot,  a  spot  of  blood  and  of 
mud  which  I  am  trying  to  remove.  I  discovered  this 
secret  in  the  titles  relating  to  the  lands  of  Ndgre- 
pelisse,  and  in  the  files  of  correspondence." 

At  this  solemn  moment  the  marquis  spoke  with- 
out stammering,  without  any  of  those  repetitions 
which  were  habitual  with  him;  but  everyone  has 
been  able  to  observe  for  himself  that  those  persons 
who  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  are  affected  by 
these  two  defects,  lose  them  at  the  moment  when 
some  lively  passion  animates  their  discourse. 

"The  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  took 
place,"  he  resumed.  "Perhaps  you  are  ignorant, 
monsieur,  that  this  brought  an  accession  of  fortune 
to  very  many  of  the  royal  favorites.  Louis  XIV. 
gave  to  the  grandees  of  his  court,  lands  confiscated 
from  the  Protestant  families  which  had  not  arranged 


334  THE   INTERDICTION 

for  the  sale  of  their  property.  Some  persons  high 
in  favor,  as  was  then  said,  went  hunting  for  Protest- 
ants. I  have  acquired  the  certainty  tiiat  the  pres- 
ent fortune  of  two  ducal  families  is  composed  of 
lands  confiscated  from  the  unhappy  merchants.  I 
will  not  explain  to  you,  a  man  of  the  law,  the 
manoeuvres  employed  to  entrap  those  refugees  who 
had  large  fortunes  to  carry  away:  it  will  suffice  for 
you  to  know  that  the  estate  of  Negrepelisse,  consist- 
ing of  twenty-two  parishes  and  right  of  taxation  in 
the  city,  that  that  of  Gravenges,  which  formerly 
belonged  to  us,  were  originally  in  the  possession  of 
a  Protestant  family.  My  grandfather  came  into 
possession  of  them  through  the  grant  made  to  him 
by  Louis  XIV.  This  grant  was  based  upon  facts 
stamped  by  frightful  iniquity.  The  proprietor  of 
these  two  estates,  believing  that  it  would  be  possible 
to  return  to  France,  had  made  an  apparent  sale  and 
then  had  gone  to  Switzerland  to  rejoin  his  family, 
which  he  had  sent  there  at  the  first  alarm.  He 
wished,  doubtless,  to  take  advantage  of  all  the  delays 
accorded  by  the  ordinance,  in  order  to  regulate  his 
business  affairs.  This  man  was  arrested  by  an 
order  of  the  governor,  the  feoffee  admitted  the  facts, 
the  poor  merchant  was  hanged,  my  father  received 
the  two  estates.  I  would  willingly  suppress  the 
part  which  my  ancestor  took  in  this  intrigue;  but 
the  governor  was  his  maternal  uncle,  and  I  have 
read,  unhappily,  a  letter  in  which  he  requests  him 
to  apply  to  Deodatus,  a  name  for  the  king  which 
had  been  agreed  upon  among  the  courtiers.     There 


THE  INTERDICTION  335 

prevails  throughout  this  letter  a  jesting  tone  at  the 
expense  of  the  victim  which  fills  me  with  horror. 
In  fact,  monsieur,  the  sums  of  money  sent  by  the 
refugee  family  to  purchase  the  life  of  the  poor  man, 
were  retained  by  the  governor,  who  none  the  less 
dispatched  the  merchant." 

The  Marquis  d'Espard  stopped,  as  though  these 
souvenirs  were  still  too  painful  for  him. 

"This  unfortunate  was  named  Jeanrenaud, "  he 
resumed.  "This  name  will  explain  to  you  my  con- 
duct. 1  have  not  been  able  to  reflect,  without  keen 
pain,  on  the  secret  shame  which  weighed  on  my 
family.  This  fortune  permitted  my  grandfather  to 
espouse  a  Navarreins-Lansac,  an  heiress  of  the 
property  of  that  younger  branch,  at  that  time  much 
richer  than  was  the  elder  branch  of  the  Navarreins. 
My  father  found  himself  from  that  time  one  of  the 
most  considerable  landed  proprietors  in  the  king- 
dom. He  was  able  to  marry  my  mother,  who  was 
a  Grandlieu  of  the  younger  branch.  Though  ill- 
acquired,  this  property  has  strangely  profited  with 
us !  Resolved  to  repair  the  wrong  promptly,  I  wrote 
to  Switzerland,  and  received  no  reply  until  the 
moment  when  I  was  on  the  traces  of  the  heirs  of  the 
Protestant.  I  finally  discovered  that  the  Jean- 
renauds,  reduced  to  the  utmost  poverty,  had  left 
Fribourg,  and  that  they  had  come  back  to  live  in 
France.  At  last  I  discovered  in  Monsieur  Jean- 
renaud, a  simple  lieutenant  of  cavalry  under  Bona- 
parte, the  heir  of  this  unfortunate  family,  hi  my 
eyes,  monsieur,  the  right  of  the  Jeanrenauds  was 


336  THE   INTERDICTION 

clear.  In  order  to  establish  it,  would  it  not  be 
necessary  for  them  to  attack  the  present  hoi  ders  ?  To 
what  authority  would  the  refugees  address  them- 
selves? their  tribunal  was  above,  or,  rather,  mon- 
sieur, the  tribunal  was  here,"  said  the  marquis, 
striking  his  heart.  "I  have  not  wished  that  my 
children  should  have  the  same  opinion  of  me  that  I 
have  of  my  father  and  of  my  ancestors;  I  have 
wished  indeed  to  leave  them  a  heritage  and  an  es- 
cutcheon without  stain,  I  have  not  been  willing 
that  nobility  should  be  a  lie  in  my  person.  In 
short,  speaking  politically,  should  the  noble  emigres, 
who  protest  against  the  confiscations  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, keep  for  themselves  property  which  is  the 
fruit  of  confiscations  obtained  by  crime.?  In  Mon- 
sieur Jeanrenaud  and  in  his  mother  I  have  met  with 
a  rough  honesty, — if  you  listened  to  them,  you 
would  think  that  they  were  robbing  me.  In  spite 
of  my  insistence  they  have  accepted  only  the  value 
which  the  property  had  when  my  family  received 
it  from  the  king.  This  value  was  agreed  between 
us  to  be  eleven  hundred  thousand  francs,  which  they 
gave  me  the  privilege  of  paying  at  my  own  con- 
venience, without  interest.  In  order  to  do  this,  I 
have  been  obliged  to  forego  my  revenues  for  a  long 
time.  It  was  here,  monsieur,  that  there  first  com- 
menced the  destruction  of  certain  illusions  which  I 
had  cherished  concerning  the  character  of  Madame 
d'Espard.  When  I  proposed  to  her  to  leave  Paris 
and  to  go  to  live  in  the  provinces  where,  with  the 
half  of  our   income  we  could  live   honorably,  and 


THE  INTERDICTION  337 

thus  be  enabled  to  make  more  promptly  a  restitu- 
tion of  which  I  spoke  to  her  without  revealing  to 
her  the  gravity  of  the  facts,  Madame  d'Espard  con- 
sidered me  a  lunatic.  I  then  discovered  the  true 
character  of  my  wife,  she  would  have  approved 
unscrupulously  of  my  grandfather's  conduct,  and 
would  have  derided  the  Huguenots.  Terrified  at 
her  coldness,  at  the  slightness  of  her  attachment  to 
her  children,  whom  she  abandoned  to  me  without 
regret,  1  resolved  to  leave  her  in  the  possession  of 
her  own  fortune,  after  having  liquidated  our  com- 
mon debts.  It  was  not  for  her,  moreover,  she  told 
me,  to  pay  for  my  stupidities.  Having  no  longer 
sufficient  revenues  to  keep  up  my  mode  of  life  and 
provide  for  the  education  of  my  children,  I  decided 
to  bring  them  up  myself,  to  make  of  them  men  with 
honorable  feelings,  gentlemen.  By  investing  my 
money  in  the  public  funds,  I  have  been  enabled  to 
pay  much  more  promptly  than  I  hoped,  for  I  profited 
by  the  opportunities  presented  by  the  rise  in  Rentes. 
By  reserving  four  thousand  francs  for  my  sons  and 
myself,  I  should  have  been  able  to  pay  only  twenty 
thousand  ecus  a  year,  which  would  have  required 
nearly  eighteen  years  to  accomplish  my  liberation, 
whereas  I  have  lately  paid  the  last  of  my  eleven 
hundred  thousand  francs  due.  Thus  1  have  the 
happiness  of  having  accomplished  this  restitution 
without  having  wronged  my  children  in  the  slight- 
est These  are,  monsieur,  the  reasons  for  the  pay- 
ments made  to  Madame  Jeanrenaud  and  her  son." 
"Thus,"  said  the  judge,  suppressing  the  emotion 
22 


338  THE  INTERDICTION 

which  this  recital  caused  him,  "Madame  la  Marquise 
is  acquainted  with  the  motives  of  your  retreat?" 
"Yes,  monsieur." 

Popinot  made  a  sufficiently  expressive  gesture, 
rose  suddenly  and  opened  the  door  of  the  cabinet 

"Noel,  you  may  go,  "he  said  to  his  clerk.  "Mon- 
sieur," he  resumed,  "although  what  you  have  said 
to  me  is  sufficient  to  enlighten  me,  I  desire  to  hear 
you  concerning  other  facts  alleged  in  the  petition. 
Thus,  you  have  undertaken  here  a  commercial 
enterprise  which  is  not  in  accord  with  the  habits 
of  a  man  of  quality." 

"We  cannot  well  speak  of  that  here,"  said  the 
marquis,  making  a  sign  to  the  judge  to  pass  out. 
"Nouvion,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  old  man, 
"I  am  going  down  stairs  to  my  apartment,  my 
sons  will  soon  be  in,  you  will  dine  with  us." 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  Popinot  on  the 
stairway,  "this  is,  then,  not  your  apartment?" 

"No,  monsieur,  I  have  rented  these  rooms  for  the 
offices  of  this  enterprise.  You  see,"  he  said,  point- 
ing to  a  poster,  "this  history  is  published  under  the 
name  of  one  of  the  most  honorable  publishing 
houses  in  Paris,  and  not  by  me." 

The  marquis  caused  the  judge  to  enter  into  the 
ground  floor  rooms,  and  said  to  him: 
"This  is  my  apartment,  monsieur." 
Popinot  was  moved,  very  naturally,  by  the  poetry 
rather  found  than  sought  for,  which  prevailed  in 
this  dwelling.  The  weather  was  magnificent,  the 
windows  were  open,  the  air  from  the  garden  diffused 


THE   INTERDICTION  339 

through  the  salon  the  fresh  vegetable  odors ;  the  rays 
of  the  sun  lightened  and  animated  the  somewhat 
darkened  tones  of  the  wainscoting.  Popinot  came 
to  the  conclusion,  as  he  saw  this  pleasant  aspect, 
that  a  lunatic  would  scarcely  be  capable  of  invent- 
ing the  agreeable  harmony  which  appealed  to  him 
at  this  moment. 

"1  should  have  a  similar  apartment  myself,"  he 
thought  Then  he  asked  aloud:  "You  will  leave 
this  quarter  soon?" 

"I  hope  so,"  replied  the  marquis;  "but  I  shall 
wait  until  my  younger  son  shall  have  finished  his 
studies,  and  until  the  character  of  my  children  shall 
have  been  formed,  before  introducing  them  into  the 
world  by  their  mother's  side;  moreover,  after  hav- 
ing imparted  to  them  the  solid  instruction  which 
they  now  possess,  1  wish  to  complete  it  by  making 
them  travel  through  the  capitals  of  Europe,  in  order 
that  they  may  become  acquainted  with  men  and 
things,  and  acquire  facility  in  speaking  the  lan- 
guages which  they  have  been  studying.  Monsieur, " 
he  said,  causing  the  judge  to  be  seated  in  the  salon, 
"I  could  not  speak  to  you  concerning  the  publica- 
tion upon  China  before  an  old  friend  of  my  family, 
the  Comte  de  Nouvion,  returned  from  the  emigra- 
tion after  the  Revolution  without  any  fortune 
whatever,  and  in  connection  with  whom  I  have  un- 
dertaken this  affair,  less  for  myself  than  for  him. 
Without  confiding  to  him  the  reasons  for  my  retreat, 
1  said  to  him  that  I  was  ruined,  like  himself,  but 
that  I  had  enough  money  to  undertake  a  speculation 


340  THE   INTERDICTION 

in  which  he  might  make  himself  of  service.  My 
preceptor  was  the  Abbe  Grozier,  whom,  at  my 
recommendation,  Charles  X.  appointed  his  libra- 
rian at  the  library  of  the  Arsenal,  which  was  given 
him  when  the  prince  was  still  MONSIEUR.  The 
Abbe  Grozier  was  profoundly  informed  concerning 
China,  its  manners  and  customs;  he  had  made  me 
his  heir  at  an  age  in  which  it  is  difficult  not  to  de- 
velop an  enthusiasm  for  that  knowledge  which  is 
acquired.  At  the  age  of  twenty-five  1  was  ac- 
quainted with  Chinese,  and  1  admit  that  I  have 
never  been  able  to  preserve  myself  from  an  exclu- 
sive admiration  for  this  people,  which  has  con- 
quered its  conquerors,  whose  annals  incontestably 
ascend  to  an  epoch  much  more  remote  than  are  the 
mythological  or  biblical  times;  which,  by  its  im- 
movable institutions,  has  preserved  the  integrity  of 
its  territory,  whose  monuments  are  gigantic,  whose 
administration  is  perfect,  with  whom  revolutions 
are  impossible,  who  have  considered  the  ideal  of  the 
beautiful  in  art  as  unfruitful,  who  have  carried 
luxury  and  industry  to  so  high  a  degree,  whom  we 
cannot  surpass  in  any  point,  whilst  they  equal  us 
in  those  things  in  which  we  think  ourselves  su- 
perior. But,  monsieur,  if  I  frequently  permit  my- 
self to  jest  in  comparing  with  China  the  actual 
condition  of  the  European  states,  I  am  not  a  Chinese, 
I  am  a  French  gentleman.  If  you  should  have  any 
doubts  concerning  the  financial  success  of  this  en- 
terprise, I  can  prove  to  you  that  we  count  at  this 
moment  two  thousand  five  hundred  subscribers  to 


IN  THE  RUE  DE  LA   MO  NT  AG  N E- 
SAINTE-GENEVIEVE. 


"  At  the  age  of  tiventy-five  I  was  acquainted  zvith 
Chinese,  and  I  adunt  that  I  have  never  been  able  to 
preserve  myself  from  an  exclusive  admiration  for 
this  people,  winch  has  conquered  its  conquerors, 
whose  annals  incontestably  ascend  to  an  epoch  much 
more  remote  than  are  the  mythological  or  biblical 
times  ;  zvhich,  by  its  immovable  institutions — " 


*N!H 


K.f^'.,A/Ut»9rJy  ■&.  'S.  /  .^»«.. 


%■ 


n^\ 


>  J- 


,*.#  :■ ' 


'^^8Bli!W»> 


IT 


THE   INTERDICTION  34I 

this  monument,  literary,  iconographic,  statistical 
and  religious,  the  importance  of  which  is  generally 
appreciated;  our  subscribers  are  scattered  through 
all  the  nations  of  Europe,  we  have  only  twelve  hun- 
dred in  France.  Our  work  will  cost  about  three 
hundred  francs,  and  it  furnishes  the  Comte  de 
Nouvion,  for  his  part,  with  six  or  seven  thousand 
francs  income,  for  his  comfort  was  the  secret 
motive  for  undertaking  this  enterprise.  As  far  as 
1  am  concerned,  I  have  seen  in  it  only  the  possibil- 
ity of  giving  some  pleasures  to  my  children.  The 
hundred  thousand  francs  which  I  have  made,  very 
much  in  spite  of  myself,  will  pay  for  their  fencing 
lessons,  their  horses,  their  clothes,  their  theatres, 
their  lessons  in  deportment,  the  canvases  which 
they  try  to  paint,  the  books  which  they  wish  to 
buy,  in  short,  all  those  little  whims  which  it  gives 
the  fathers  so  much  pleasure  to  satisfy.  If  it  had 
been  necessary  for  me  to  refuse  these  enjoyments  to 
my  poor  children,  so  deserving,  so  constant  in  their 
studies,  the  sacrifice  which  I  am  making  to  the 
honor  of  our  name  would  have  been  doubly  burden- 
some. In  fact,  monsieur,  the  twelve  years  during 
which  I  have  retired  from  the  world  in  order  to  edu- 
cate my  children  have  procured  for  me  the  most 
complete  oblivion  at  Court.  1  have  forsaken  the 
career  of  politics,  I  have  lost  all  my  historic  fortune, 
ail  the  new  distinctions  which  I  might  have  left  to 
my  children;  but  our  house  will  have  lost  nothing, 
my  sons  will  be  distinguished  men.  If  I  do  not  at- 
tain to  the  peerage,  they  will  conquer  it  nobly  in 


342  THE  INTERDICTION 


consecrating  themselves  to  the  conduct  of  their 
country's  affairs,  and  in  rendering  to  her  those  ser- 
vices which  are  not  forgotten.  At  the  same  time 
that  I  have  purified  the  past  of  our  house  I  have  as- 
sured it  a  glorious  future, — is  not  that  to  have  ac- 
complished a  fine  task,  although  secretly  and  with- 
out glory?  Have  you  now,  monsieur,  any  other 
subjects  on  which  you  wish  to  be  informed?" 

At  this  moment  the  noise  of  several  horses  was 
heard  in  the  court. 

"There  they  are,"  said  the  marquis. 

The  two  young  men  presently  entered  the  salon, 
simple  yet  elegant  in  their  appearance,  booted, 
spurred,  gloved,  flourishing  their  riding  whips  gaily. 
Their  animated  countenances  brought  in  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  open  air,  they  were  sparkling  with 
health.  Both  came  to  grasp  their  father's  hand, 
exchanging  with  him,  as  between  friends,  a  look 
full  of  silent  tenderness,  and  they  saluted  the  judge 
coldly.  Popinot  considered  it  entirely  useless  to 
interrogate  the  marquis  on  his  relations  with  his 
sons. 

"Did  you  enjoy  yourselves?"  their  father  asked 
them. 

"Yes,  father.  For  the  first  time,  I  cut  down  six 
puppets  in  twelve  strokes!"  said  Camille. 

"Where  did  you  ride?" 

"In  the  Bois,  where  we  saw  mother." 

"Did  she  stop?" 

"We  were  going  so  fast  at  that  moment  that  she 
doubtless  did  not  see  us,"  replied  the  young  count. 


THE   INTERDICTION  343 

"But  why  then  did  you  not  go  and  present  your- 
selves to  her?" 

"1  have  thought  that  1  have  noticed,  father,  that 
she  is  not  very  well  pleased  when  we  speak  to  her 
in  public,"  said  Clement  in  a  low  voice.  "We  are 
somewhat  too  old." 

The  judge's  ear  was  fine  enough  to  catch  this 
phrase,  which  clouded  the  brow  of  the  marquis. 
Popinot  pleased  himself  by  the  contemplation  of  the 
spectacle  which  was  presented  to  him  by  the  father 
and  the  sons.  His  eyes,  filled  with  a  sort  of  tender- 
ness, returned  to  the  face  of  Monsieur  d'Espard, 
whose  features,  whose  look  and  whose  manners 
represented  to  him  probity  under  its  finest  form, 
probity  spiritual  and  chivalrous,  nobility  in  all  its 
beauty. 

"You — you  see,  monsieur,"  said  the  marquis  to 
him,  resuming  his  stammering,  "you  see  that  jus- 
tice— that  justice  can  enter  here — here,  at  any 
hour;  yes,  at  any  hour  here.  If  there  are  any 
crazy  people — if  there  are  any  crazy  people,  they 
can  only  be  the  children,  who  are  a  little  crazy  over 
their  father,  and  the  father  who  is  very  crazy  over 
his  children;  but  that  is  a  lunacy  of  good  sterling 
quality." 

At  this  moment  the  voice  of  Madame  Jeanrenaud 
was  heard  in  the  antechamber,  and  the  good  woman 
came  into  the  salon  notwithstanding  the  remon- 
strance of  the  valet  de  chambre. 

"1  am  not  going  in  a  roundabout  way,  I  am  not!" 
she  cried.     "Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  she  said, 


344  THE  INTERDICTION 

making  a  general  salute  to  the  company,  "I  must 
speak  to  you  at  this  very  minute.  Parbleu!  I  have 
come  too  late,  after  all,  for  there  is  Monsieur  the 
criminal  judge." 

"Criminal !"  said  the  two  youths. 

"There  were  very  good  reasons  why  1  did  not 
find  you  at  your  house,  since  you  were  here.  Oh, 
bah!  justice  is  always  about  when  it  is  a  question 
of  making  mischief.  I  come,  Monsieur  le  Marquis, 
to  say  to  you  that  I  am  of  the  same  mind  as  my 
son  to  return  everything  to  you,  since  it  concerns 
our  honor,  which  is  attacked.  My  son  and  I,  we 
would  rather  refund  all  to  you  than  to  cause  you 
the  slightest  vexation.  In  truth,  one  would  have  to 
be  as  stupid  as  the  pots  without  handles  to  be  willing 
to  see  you  interdicted — " 

"Interdict  our  father!"  cried  the  marquis's  two 
sons,  pressing  up  against  him.  "What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"Chut,  madame!"  said  Popinot 

"Leave  us,  children,"  said  the  marquis. 

The  two  young  men  withdrew  to  the  garden  with- 
out making  any  observation,  but  full  of  anxiety. 

"Madame,"  said  the  judge,  "the  sums  of  money 
which  Monsieur  le  Marquis  has  paid  over  to  you 
were  legitimately  due  you,  though  they  have  been 
given  you  in  virtue  of  a  principle  of  probity  which 
is  carried  to  an  extreme  length.  If  all  those  who 
are  in  possession  of  property  that  has  been  confis- 
cated, in  any  manner  whatever,  even  through  per- 
fidious methods,  were  obliged   to  make  restitution 


THE  INTERDICTION  345 

after  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  there  would  be 
found  in  France  very  little  legitimate  ownership. 
The  wealth  of  Jacques  Coeur  has  enriched  twenty 
noble  families;  the  unjust  confiscations  of  the 
English  in  favor  of  their  adherents,  when  the 
English  were  in  possession  of  a  part  of  France, 
have  made  the  fortunes  of  several  princely  houses. 
Our  laws  permit  Monsieur  le  Marquis  to  dispose  of 
his  revenues  by  free  gift  without  exposing  himself 
to  the  charge  of  dissipation.  The  interdiction  of  a 
man  is  based  upon  the  absence  of  all  reason  in  his 
actions;  but  here,  the  cause  of  the  restitutions 
which  have  been  made  to  you  is  found  in  the  most 
sacred,  the  most  honorable  motives.  Therefore  you 
may  keep  everything  without  remorse,  and  allow 
the  world  to  put  its  own  evil  interpretation  on  this 
fine  action.  !n  Paris,  it  is  the  purest  virtue  that 
is  made  the  object  of  the  vilest  calumnies.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  the  present  state  of  our  society 
makes  the  conduct  of  Monsieur  le  Marquis  seem 
sublime.  I  could  wish,  for  the  honor  of  our  country, 
that  such  acts  should  seem  quite  simple;  but  our 
manners  are  such  that  I  am  forced,  by  comparison, 
to  regard  Monsieur  d'Espard  as  a  man  to  whom  a 
crown  should  be  awarded  instead  of  being  threatened 
with  a  judgment  of  interdiction.  During  the  course 
of  a  long  judicial  life,  I  have  never  seen  or  heard 
anything  that  has  moved  me  more  than  that  which 
I  have  just  seen  and  heard.  But  there  is  nothing 
extraordinary  in  finding  virtue  in  its  most  beautiful 
form,  there  where  it  is  practised  by  men  who  belong 


346  THE  INTERDICTION 

to  the  most  elevated  class. — After  having  thus  ex- 
plained myself,  I  hope,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that 
you  will  be  sure  of  my  silence,  and  that  you  will 
have  no  inquietude  concerning  the  judgment  to  be 
pronounced,  if  judgment  there  be." 

"Well,  good  enough!"  said  Madame  Jeanrenaud, 
"here  is  a  judge  of  the  right  kind!  Really,  my 
dear  monsieur,  I  would  embrace  you  if  I  were  not 
so  ugly;  you  talk  like  a  book." 

The  marquis  offered  his  hand  to  Popinot,  and 
Popinot  placed  his  own  into  it  softly,  turning  a  look 
full  of  penetrating  accord  upon  this  man,  so  great  in 
private  life,  to  which  the  marquis  replied  by  a 
gracious  smile.  These  two  natures,  so  full,  so  rich, 
the  one  bourgeois  and  divine,  the  other  noble  and 
sublime,  had  come  into  unison  with  each  other 
gently,  without  shock,  without  outbreak  of  passion, 
as  if  two  pure  flames  had  commingled.  The  father  of 
his  whole  quarter  felt  himself  worthy  to  press  the 
hand  of  this  man  twice  noble,  and  the  marquis  knew 
by  a  movement  in  the  depths  of  his  heart  that  the 
hand  of  the  judge  was  one  of  those  from  which  in- 
cessantly flow  the  treasures  of  an  inexhaustible 
benevolence. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  added  Popinot  as  he 
bowed,  "I  am  happy  to  have  to  tell  you  that,  from 
the  first  words  of  this  interrogation,  I  considered  my 
clerk  superfluous." 

Then  he  approached  the  marquis,  drew  him  into 
the  embrasure  of  the  window  and  said  to  him: 

"It  is  time  that  you  should  return  to  your  own 


THE   INTERDICTION  347 

house,  monsieur;  1  believe  that  in  this  affair  Ma- 
dame la  Marquise  has  been  subject  to  influences 
which  you  should  begin  to  combat  from  to-day." 

Popinot  'went  out,  and,  as  he  walked,  turned  it 
evermore  than  once  in  his  mind  in  the  court  and  in 
the  street,  moved  to  tenderness  by  the  memory  of 
this  scene.  It  was  one  of  those  effects  which  im- 
plant themselves  in  the  mind,  to  flower  again  in 
remembrance  at  certain  hours  in  which  the  soul 
seeks  consolation. 

"That  apartment  would  suit  me  very  well,"  he 
said  to  himself  on  his  arrival  at  his  own  house. 
"If  Monsieur  d'Espard  should  leave  it,  I  would  take 
up  his  lease — " 

The  next  day,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
Popinot,  who,  the  evening  before,  had  drawn  up 
his  report,  took  his  way  to  the  Palais  with  the  in- 
tention of  doing  prompt  and  sound  justice.  As  he 
entered  the  vestry  to  assume  his  robe  and  put  on 
his  band,  the  attendant  of  the  chambers  said  to  him 
that  the  president  of  the  tribunal  requested  him  to 
pass  into  his  cabinet,  where  he  was  waiting  for 
him.     Popinot  immediately  went  there. 

"Good  day,  my  dear  Popinot,"  said  the  magis- 
trate to  him.     "I  was  waiting  for  you." 

"Monsieur  the  president,  is  it  a  question  of  any- 
thing serious?" 

* '  A  piece  of  nonsense, ' '  said  the  president  ' '  The 
keeper  of  the  seals,  with  whom  1  had  the  honor  to 
dine  yesterday,  drew  me  aside  into  a  corner.  He 
had  learned  that  you  had  been  to  take  tea  with 


348  THE   INTERDICTION 

Madame  d'Espard,  with  whose  affair  you  were  com- 
missioned. He  has  caused  me  to  understand  that 
it  is  advisable  that  you  do  not  sit  in  this  cause — " 

"Ah!  Monsieur  the  president,  I  can  affirm  that  I 
left  Madame  d'Espard's  at  the  moment  when  the  tea 
was  served;  moreover,  my  conscience — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  president,  "the  whole  tri- 
bunal, the  two  courts,  the  Palais,  know  you.  I 
will  not  repeat  to  you  what  I  said  of  you  to  His 
Grace ;  but  you  knew  that  Ccesar's  wife  should  he 
above  suspicion.  Therefore  we  will  not  make  of 
this  nonsense  a  matter  of  discipline,  but  a  question 
of  the  proprieties.  Between  ourselves,  it  is  less  a 
case  of  you  than  of  the  tribunal." 

"But,  Monsieur  the  president,  if  you  were  ac- 
quainted with  the  case,"  said  the  judge,  endeavor- 
ing to  draw  his  report  from  his  pocket. 

"I  am  convinced  in  advance  that  you  have 
brought  to  this  affair  the  strictest  independence.  I, 
myself,  when  I  was  in  the  provinces,  a  simple 
judge,  I  have  often  taken  much  more  than  a  cup  of 
tea  with  persons  whose  cases  I  had  to  judge;  but  it 
is  sufficient  that  the  keeper  of  the  seals  has  spoken 
of  it,  that  you  may  be  gossiped  about,  to  cause  the 
tribunal  to  avoid  any  discussion  on  the  subject.  AH 
conflict  with  public  opinion  is  always  dangerous  for 
a  constitutional  body,  even  when  it  has  right  on  its 
side,  for  the  weapons  are  not  equal.  The  news- 
papers may  say  everything,  suppose  everything; 
and  our  own  dignity  forbids  us  to  do  anything,  even 
to  reply.     Moreover,  I  have  conferred  concerning  it 


THE  INTERDICTION  349 

with  your  president,  and  Monsieur  Camusot  has 
just  been  commissioned,  on  the  recusation  which 
you  will  give.  It  is  a  matter  all  arranged  in  the 
family.  In  short,  I  ask  of  you  your  recusation  as  a 
personal  service;  in  return,  you  shall  have  the  cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  which  has  been  so  long  due 
you,  I  will  make  it  my  own  affair," 

As  he  saw  Monsieur  Camusot,  a  judge  recently 
called  from  a  court  of  appeals  to  that  of  Paris,  and 
who  now  came  forward,  bowing  to  the  judge  and 
the  president,  Popinot  could  not  repress  an  ironical 
smile.  This  young  man,  blond  and  pale,  filled  with 
hidden  ambition,  seemed  equally  willing  to  hang  or 
to  unhang,  at  the  good  pleasure  of  the  kings  of  the 
earth,  the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty,  and  to 
follow  the  example  of  the  Laubardemonts  rather 
than  those  of  the  Moles.  Popinot  retired,  bowing  to 
the  president  and  the  judge;  he  disdained  to  notice 
the  lying  accusation  brought  against  him. 

Paris,  February,  1836. 


LIST  OF    ETCHINGS 


VOLUME  XX 

PAGE 

AT  COMTE  OCTAVE'S,  RUE  PAYENNE    .    •    .     Fronts. 

HONORINE  AND  MAURICE 112 

COLONEL  CHABERT  AT  M.  DERVILLE'S 129 

IN  THE  RUE  DU  FOUARRE 233 

IN  THE  RUE  DE  LA  MONTAGNE-SAINTE-GENEVIEVE  •  340 


20  N.  &  R.,  Hon.  351 


6^ 


/I  </ 


QUj 


^.. 


50        c 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  bdov^. 


DATE  SEN 


APR  0 

HATER 


(\C  rjt  I  I 


l^  Ad  V  il(] 


ii  !ikir\ 


REC'D  C.L.  M/iV  01  -96 


4WK  MAY  07  1996 


315 


< 


U-J 

> 

:2: 


■s^. 

^ 


k 


.^^ 


!1V3J0> 
^^.OfCAIIFO/?^ 


AA    000  571  575    0 


'S, 


3        -— 


CO 

so 

> 

-< 


■«\ 


>-'  '. 


lOS-ANCn^- 


\  ^ 


NTjUINOSr 


c^" 


c^EUJ^' "' 


u.iivviu; 


<_3 


3         O 


3>       r: 


1!^ 


■vAavaaiiiv' 


•  JjiO.VliUi' 


■^6 


r  c5v4r 


jajAii>iijjtA>- 


.ilVJJU 


'^UJIiVJ-jU'- 


'Jj 


it 


